Rebirth
by ArchFaith
Summary: Nash x Sierra : Chapter 17: The Rune of Rebirth...so it had been that Nash and Sierra were able to conceive the child in the first place. But now that she knew the truth, what would become of them? Would he forgive her...or would she have to leave...?
1. Retraction

Disclaimer: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

**Special note**: Alright, a lot of people have been telling me that the use of Nash's nickname for Sierra, "old girl", should be toned down a little (I guess because it sounds insulting). But do you want to know why he uses it so often? Well, "old girl" originally started out as his way of teasing her about her age, but over time, it's come to mean much more to them. Now, when he calls her "old girl", it's just his way of saying "sweetheart" or "darling" or something akin to that. Get it? Got it! GOOD!

Rebirth

Chapter 1: Retraction

by ArchFaith

"Not even going to say goodbye, huh?"

She was only mildly surprised to hear his voice whisper through the hot night air. One stocking-clad foot lightly hit the threshold of the doorway as the mildly curious accusation reached her ears.

The brass knob had almost turned and clicked as she paused, her hand still grasping the lock. How quickly he picked up on things, this boy. Hints, small clues, infinitesimal changes in her mannerisms. Well, he was a spy, after all. It was his duty—extensive training, years of practice...he was good at these things.

She sighed.

_Too good._

The boy sat up in bed, his muscular frame propped up by his arms as he gently leaned forward. Unclothed save for a thin blanket that covered his legs and waist, the beads of sweat collected on his forehead as he eyed her, the azure blue of his pupils burning into her motionless form. He brushed a piece of wavy blonde hair away from his eyes and smoothed it back against his head as he frowned.

There was no easy way out of this, was there? To wake up, feel for the familiar body lying to his, to feel nothing. To wake, and see the supposed receiver of his affections nearly walking out the door...he wanted an explanation; he would not settle for anything less. And she did owe him one, after all; he had been sweet to her. This much she could she admit. Sweet, kind...more than that. But no...she quickly pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she slowly turned to face him.

The white blouse clung to her damp body, as did the pleated blue skirt and stockings to her pale legs. Her blue shoes, the long cloak—these she cradled in her arms. She did not think he would wake so easily...but maybe he was, in reality, a light sleeper. Perhaps he was always watching her at night, watching to see that she did not leave. And perhaps he had stopped watching her, had trusted her enough to know that she would still be there when the morning light filtered in through the heavy curtains.

Well—he should have kept watching.

She smoothed back the silvery strands of hair and tucked them behind her ear. It was warm out; of course, it was always warm in the desert city. Caleria, city of a thousand thieves, city of the palm trees and dancing girls, the gateway to Harmonia and beyond. The headquarters of the Southern Frontier Defense Force—_his_ unit. Nash Latkje, only son of the prosperous Latkje family, a trainee of the Howling Voice Guild. The fair-haired swordsman of Harmonia.

The crooked smile, the loose strands of hair in his eyes, his teasing nature. _Old girl._

She was fresh from the battlegrounds of the Dunan Unification War...Highland...the gathering of the One Hundred and Eight Stars. She had fulfilled her duty to destiny, helped to stabilize the world and make it safe once more; and, having completed her mission, found that her own longings needed to come to an end. The small, nagging feelings of loneliness had temporarily been silenced as she found herself gravitating towards the handsome Klaus Windamier—but alas, no. To spend an eternity with him—this she could not imagine.

She did not know where else to go.

And so she went to him. Over the hills and valley, around the rocky, desolate mountains, on the path to the old city of Caleria, where she knew he would be located. He had been glad to see her; he had accepted her, welcomed her as she stood in the doorway of his small house, her face a mixture of mild annoyance and deep joy. She had always had a certain fondness for this clumsy blonde boy—his confident smile, the deep azure of his eyes, the mixture of tease and equal that he displayed every time he opened his mouth. Something within him—inside him—yes, her ancient soul loved. It was as if she was still sixteen again, as if she had woken up from a slumber centuries-long, awoken next to a young blonde man with wavy hair and a relaxing smile.

Start over. Be loved.

But now...and now...

She slowly went over to him and sat down on the bed as he fully sat up, knitting his eyebrows as she averted her eyes, letting them wander to her feet as she spoke. "I am sorry I did not wake you," she whispered, blinking. "I thought it might be better if I allowed you to sleep..."

He frowned, his expression bordering on anger. "So you were just going to go like that? Without even telling me? Without even saying why?"

She looked at him now; he seemed far away. The last few weeks of her life it was as if they were the same age—now it was like looking at a child. Yes—an old, withered hag talking to a young child.

He would be so insulted if she told him that. "Well..." she began, her ruby eyes drifting into his. "Nash...this is difficult for me to explain..."

He tried and failed to stop his fists from forming into tight balls. "Sierra...you should know by now that nothing you could ever say to me..."

There was no amusement in his voice—no tease. This was real; it was not one of her many games, one of the many instances in which she would relentlessly badger him while he lightheartedly told her off. He was serious; he was hardly ever serious when he was around her...

She decided she did not like this side of him.

Quickly she stood up. Clearly the only way to handle this would be to take a side—there could be no middle ground now, no pleasantries or formalities. She couldn't apologize for just walking away. "It could never work between us, Nash. I have told you this time and time before—always in half-jest, I confess. But now...I have truly realized our destiny. We...we are not the same. We could never be the same. I will never truly grow to love you. And you cannot love me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he yelled, his eyes blazing as he stood, hastily wrapping the thin sheet around his waist as he went over to her. "I could never love you…you're not making sense." His eyes roved over her flustered form. "There has to be something wrong."

His arms moved to embrace her; she pushed him away, backed up until she could feel the draft of the hot breeze on her back as it flowered in through the window. "I am not just joking around," she said solemnly, desperately trying to make her voice stony and indifferent as she coldly drew her gaze upon him. "This relationship—it is but a small episode of my life. I am done here. I am finished toying around with you..." Her voice faltered as she turned away. "I have grown quite bored with this...so I have decided to end this affair."

She pressed the shoes and cloak tighter against her body, almost tasting the fury that was about to manifest itself behind her.

She readied herself for the explosion she was sure would erupt—but none came. An awkward silence came to rest upon the room suddenly—a quiet tension that gently landed upon the messy bed, settled into the worn old desk and chair, swirled around the small end table with its dusty brass lamp. She could feel him still standing behind her, his arms drawn up protectively over his bare chest.

She could not tell how long it was that they stood like this—her arms tight against her only belongings, poised as if to fly out of the door any minute; the boy standing near her, silent, calculating. Outside, the palm trees rustled in a light breeze, the nauseatingly soft sounds of a Calerian night.

"You're selfish, old girl," he whispered, finally, coming up to stand behind her, his breath against her cheek as she blinked furiously, trying to keep the bloody tears from forcing their way to the surface.

"You knew that when I took up with you," she answered, trying to make her voice sound callous, angry. When in reality only a small thread of self-discipline was keeping her from taking back all her words, her gestures, her actions—from taking them all back.

"When you _took up_ with me?" he echoed, his eyes narrowing. His frown had formed into a scowl, his mouth trembling he placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezed them gently as he did whenever they made love. "I get it." His scowl twisted into an incredulous, sarcastic smile now—he closed his eyes, and she turned her head slightly, just in time to witness a single tear trace its way down his tanned cheek. "Guess I'm just a whore to you, right? Something you can just use and then toss away, like an old toy."

_That is correct, as far as you are concerned. Just keeping thinking that way, and it will be alright. For both of us._

It took all her strength to keep herself from whirling around and throwing her arms around him. "Think whatever you wish," she answered. "It's none of my concern any longer."

She wrenched herself away from his arms and marched over to the door. This time the knob turned fully—she wrenched the door open and strode out into the small square, the light of the fading lanterns casting shadows on her lithe body as she quickly wrapped the shawl around her shoulders.

He immediately hurtled after her, catching her and turning her around, his hands clamped on her arms. "Don't do this, old girl," he whispered, his discomforting face stricken as he furiously blinked, hoping to keep the anguished tears from pooling at the base of his eyelashes. "You're not yourself…I know there's a reason for this. There has to be." He pulled her into an embrace now, wrapped his tanned arms around her as she stood there in silence. "Whatever it is…please," he pleaded, stroking her soft, silver hair, "just stay. Don't just go by yourself."

She callously pushed him as the red droplets slowly forged their way down her face, staining her pale cheek. "Get away from me," she said lowly, dangerously. "Our time is done." She turned away from once again, focused her eyes on a waxing candle glistening inside an old brass lantern hung from a doorway opposite the plaza. "I shall not be coming back here, I assure you. I hope you live a life worthy of your successes."

She quickly brought her hands to her face, wiped the offending tears off her cheek before turning to face him once more, twisting her face to condescending and annoyed.

He knew he could not stop her; once her mind was set on her goal, there could be no discussion, no pleading. But—why? Truly it could not be so—that she meant their affair to be brief, that it was always her intention to leave once she grew bored. As domineering, as self-centered, as argumentative as she was—and he had always known her to be—she would not do something like this. He did not know whether, in her heart, she had truly grown to love him as much as he did her; but surely there was something inside her that felt for him; surely there was a part of her heart that did have some kind of passionate feeling for him. And as much as she troubled him, scolded him, slapped him—she would not do this kind of thing. She would not hurt him like this.

Surely…?

He moved to embrace her once again; she backed away before he came a step closer. Hugging her only possessions to her chest once again, she rapidly turned away. "Goodbye," he thought he heard her whisper as, in an instant, she had vanished from his sight; her vampiric traits allowed her to travel at enormous speeds, and this she had utilized to its best ability; she ran so quickly out of the deserted plaza she was sure he would not be able to see her bloody tears form once again.

He stood staring for a moment, the hot breeze tousling his blonde hair as he blankly scanned the plaza for any signs of her presence. It was a vain attempt; he knew that her little vanishing act meant that she was gone.

The soft light of the lanterns, the geometric patterns of the walls of the houses, the leaves of the palm trees rustling in the wind—

A small, clear trail formed at the base of his eyelashes and traced its way down his cheek. He blinked; a second tear formed, and then a third. Slowly he blinked as the tears gently flowed, his mouth quivering at he looked up into the starry night sky.

_Just look after her for me._

To be continued…

Note: Well, the first chapter ends here. This fic is going to turn out differently than my other Nash/Sierra fluff stories…this chapter is mainly exposition, just setting up for the main part of the story. Hope you all liked it, and please review! I love hearing everything's comments and criticisms, so make sure to tell me what you thought of it!

Also...this story will feature something different, an old idea I've been playing around with for a while now, and something I thought would be interesting when applied to Nash and Sierra. So stay tuned!


	2. Perplexity

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Rebirth

Chapter 2: Perplexity

by ArchFaith

_So you were just going to go like that? Without even telling me? Without even saying why?_

Her hands shook as she brought her slender white fingers to her sweating forehead, desperate to beat back the intense migraine that once again had arrived to plague her.

_You're selfish, old girl._

_I am_, she thought, her mind swirling in the aching haze that almost engulfed her, caused her to lose balance, to falter down upon the hot, dusty road.

_Please…just stay. Don't just go by yourself._

Curse him, that presuming, naïve boy.

"Mmmm," she moaned as she slowly sat up, her pale hand quickly moving to her pounding forehead. She gingerly shifted her legs into a kneeling position, raised one trembling arm to prop herself up off the dusty mountain floor.

_Fainted once again_, she observed, both confused and disturbed at the same time. She studied her surroundings—familiar territory. The old mountain pass, a main route for merchants traveling into Caleria. The dusty trail hewn into the rough granite, the rocky walls that could collapse upon travelers at a single misplaced hand, the twisted, ugly trees that sprouted from dry cracks within the earth.

She hated the place.

The pounding was beginning to cease—she let her hand drop from her forehead and slowly struggled to stand, her legs almost giving out beneath her as she stood, her normally immaculate skirt and cape covered now with a dirty brown film. _Oh god_, she thought as she attempted to skim the dust off her clothes.

_This is what I have come to. _

(-)

Six months from the night she bid her Nash goodbye. Six months since she had seen that familiar face so grieved and disturbed, seen the shadows flickering on his tanned skin as she stood watching her, leaving Caleria and his life for what she thought was for good.

For two weeks she had traveled—trudged, actually—far and wide, stopping at small villages and sprawling cities, walking through deserted forest trails one day and noisy crowds of people the next. Wandering…looking. Searching. But for what? An answer to a question….but _which_ question? She had told herself that it would be for the best; that a True Rune bearer did not belong with a lowly Harmonian spy, that the boy should be free to marry someone of his own rank and intelligence. Yet, as she walked through scene after scene, witnessed thousands of faces and view upon view of beautiful landscapes—she could not name the one question that had so plagued her from the beginning of her relationship with Nash.

Finally she found herself standing in the familiar little clearing, walking over the fallen planks, pushing open the rotting doors, tracing the old gravestones with her delicate fingers as she allowed herself to cry—the old, overgrown ruins of the very town that she herself had held so dear. The Blue Moon Village—the world she had created, the destiny she had given to those who came to her—her masterpiece. The only thing she felt she had given to the world.

Destroyed, like so many of her precious ventures.

For five wretched months she had tortured herself; her shelter was the very cabin she had shared with Rean, the old dwelling in which she had waited and watched for so many years. A skeleton of a house now—its frame eaten through by termites, the logs scorched by the long-ago destruction. And yet she forced herself to stay there; she had laid her cloak and shoes down upon the broken logs, and stretched out her lithe body upon the cold, dank floor.

_This is where I belong. _

That was where she stayed. For months she had kept the same pattern: to lay all day upon the floor of the memory-filled cabin, wishing and thinking and pondering about many things—her life, her adventures, the battles she had fought and won. And him. Always him.

_Damn your idiotic eyes, Nash Latkje. _

(-)

She finished dusting the dirt off her clothes and straightened herself out before she continued onwards. Her once fine silver hair was now slightly-tangled; her skirt, though mostly intact, bore some tatters on the hemline. The soles of her shoes were beginning to wear through from all the traveling she had done; to any merchant or traveler passing by, she might have seemed to them a pale gypsy, a down-on-her-luck vagabond heading for Caleria to find some profitable vice.

_I wonder who's more to blame for this fix—him or I_, she thought as she resumed her steady hike along the path, grasping protruding rocks and tree branches for support as she continued the deep descent down into the desert valley, her shaking legs every now and then almost giving way under her. After a few close scrapes with the cracked mountain trail, the once-dignified vampiress found herself gratefully walking under the large archway that greeted visitors into Caleria. It was twilight; the purple sky was streaked with pink, and the faraway sun was winking as it started its departure into night. The few market stalls that were still open were now beginning to roll up their wares.

Her hand reached for the counter of one of the booths—in an instant, her entire body swayed, and she found herself falling to her knees, the rough rocks scraping her legs and hands as she tried in vain to stand once again. The deep shame welled beneath her heart as she quickly caught sight of the few men and women who still wandered through the great plaza, their curious eyes trained upon her as she pressed her hands against the pebbly earth, slowly pushing herself up.

The merchant who had been standing behind the counter was immediately at her side, putting his hands on her shoulders and slowly helping her to rise. "Are you alright?" he demanded. "You look a little sick, miss."

Her sour expression quickly killed any question of her being sick in his mind. "I'm fine," she replied stiffly, pushing his hands off. But she could no longer hide her true frustrations—a single red tear had now fallen from her cheek, landing with a tiny splash upon the dry, cracked earth.

"You're bleeding," the merchant exclaimed, quickly reaching for a handkerchief within his pocket. She shook her head as he offered it to her; she could tell he was slightly offended as he tucked it away. It was fortunate the man didn't know the old vampire legends—Calerians knew only the silly, false tales of fatal sunlight or the handy silver stake. Vampires, such as herself, could walk in the sun unharmed, though slightly less agile than at night. Silver stakes and all other sorts of supposedly religious weapons could probably not even penetrate her skin.

She quickly wiped the red trail off her cheek and thanked the gods no one knew vampires cried bloody tears.

"If you will," she began, her voice cracking, as she brushed the blood off her cheek. "I am here seeking to speak with an old friend by the name of Nash Latkje. Would you happen to know him? He is a member of the Southern Frontier Defense Force, and at the last I heard from him, he was stationed here." Normally she would not ask such a question to a mere stranger; usually she would seek her goal out by herself, watching and waiting and gathering information until she finally found the person or thing she was looking for.

But this was not a usual time; her temper was extremely short, and her frustration quickly called for an easy way out.

The merchant cocked his head and looked at her thoughtfully, the beige headdress he wore over his curly brown hair fluttering in the light evening breeze. "Nash Latkje," he repeated, rolling his tongue over the boy's last name. "SFDF, huh? Is he Harmonian?"

"Yes," she answered, blinking. "Pure-blooded, blonde hair, blue eyes…have you seen him around?"

"Well now, somebody like that's hard to miss around here," the man chuckled, scratching his head. "He has a little red bird, right? That always sits on his shoulder?"

"Yes," she repeated. Dominguez, that annoyance of a pet that continually nagged her during the brief moments Nash allowed him to stay around his house.

"Ahhh…I know him! Yeah, he buys snake frog oil from me all the time…we talk a little bit sometimes, and he tells me he just got assigned to a new house in the eastern plaza...it would be that way." The man indicated the direction with his arm.

Finally, a break. One that was sorely needed, in fact. "Thank you," she replied. Slowly she put one foot in front of the other, forming a relatively steady walk. It was much easier to keep on balance now that she was on level ground; she strode now with dignity and confidence, and tried, with success, to hide the fact that she was silently suffering on the inside.

The twilight was quickly darkening, the streaked sky melting away against the thin backdrop of the dark blue sea of stars. The market was completely gone; the wares had all been folded away, and the merchants had gone home arguing with each other over who had made the most money. A few children still played, tapping the ground with their roughly carved spears made of tree branches, and playing mother to old dolls constructed with straw and linen.

Here and there the wandering eyes of the townsfolk alighted on the ruby-eyed maiden, watching her refined yet anxious gestures, their friendly smiles turning to frowns as she gave them obligatory scowls. It was not a pleasant time, and she did not want to be pleasant to anyone, nor have anyone be pleasant to her.

It was not a long walk to the east plaza; an old sign marked the fact that she had reached her destination, and she eyed the buildings that composed the large square. Ordinary, residential-looking houses, with adobe walls and sturdy desert paint—an average neighborhood, only slightly better than the one Nash had lived in before.

Now…where exactly could he be?

The question had barely touched her mind before her ears detected a familiar swooping noise high up above her head. She raised her eyes to the now-starlit heavens, and spied there a small red bird with a pack strapped its back, its wings flapping energetically as it neared the small plaza, a small wrapped-up note clutched in its right foot.

Quickly she scanned the area, and hid herself behind a pile of old boxes that were leaning up against a corner of the city wall. The bird gracefully swooped down into the square, and circled a few times before alighting on the windowsill of a small house in a corner of the quadrangle. It tapped on the closed shutter a few times before they opened—she glimpsed a tanned, white-sleeved hand reach out to take the bird in, and a second later the window was shut.

She stood up from her hiding place, once again beginning to feel the symptoms of a new migraine coming on. How much more of this would she take? Pain after pain after pain—it had been a long day. Perhaps she could see him tonight, perhaps she could rest in an actual bed, with a soft mattress and a blanket instead of the cold, hard ground once more.

And she would see him again, be near him again—yes.

Rapidly she walked towards the low building, the rapid banging in her head becoming more pronounced with every step she took towards the wooden door. She felt a stinging slowness in her legs and hoped she would be able to reach his doorstep in time.

_To think it should me asking him to forgive._

(-)

She did not know exactly when the illness had started; only knew that one day she had woken up to a slight pressure in her head, as if some unknown force were giving her brain a gentle squeeze. She had regarded it as nothing at first, had lived her restrained life in the ruined village day after day—until nothing quickly escalated into _something_. The mild annoyance quickly turned to a frustrating nuisance—instead of being gently squeezed, her brain now felt as if it were being crushed into a meat grinder.

But her head was not the only victim of the mysterious sickness—quickly her legs followed suit. It was as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to her thighs and had done as best a job with it as they could—oftentimes she felt her legs give way under her, leaving her to scramble around miserably in the wet, dewy grass.

Embarrassment—shame. Misery as she rose yet again, to the headaches and shaking legs that greeted her every day she awoke, adding to the whole awful remembrances of the hot, Calerian nights, her pale body gracefully leaning against his, the sound of the breeze as she pressed her lips to his warm mouth…

And finally, it was evident to her, the path she had to take.

No matter how much she slapped him, called him names, and continually acted like it was a privilege to have her around…

_I can no longer survive without you._

(-)

"Hey there pal," the blonde boy greeted as the red bird hopped into his hand, his small claws tightly grasping the tough fingers. "Got something for me?"

Dominguez shifted from one foot onto the other, his bright eyes staring up at his master's face. "Yes," the engineered animal replied, ruffling its feathers. "From Wang."

Nash nodded, wisps of blonde hair falling into his eyes as he gently untied the message bound to the bird's leg. "Thanks Dom," he said, giving the bird a pat on the head. "You tired, boy?" he asked as he stepped away from the shuttered window, his eyes barely focusing on the message he grasped in his hand.

Dominguez squawked in response, and gracefully leaped off Nash's hand to swoop around the living room, circling twice before he settled down into a small, nest-like box that rested on a small shelf in the corner. He flapped his wings contentedly and then settled down for a long rest.

Nash smiled absently, then came around the back of the large red sofa and sank down onto the fluffed cushions, the unread message still in his hands. He stretched out and yawned, the message slipping from his hand down onto the rug that lay beneath the sofa. Whatever it was, it could wait—for now he was too tired to read any more notes.

_What I need is a break._

"Heh," he chuckled to himself, half-closing his eyes languidly. "Like I'll ever get one. Eh, Dom?" The bird did not answer. Nash looked over to it and saw that its head was tucked underneath one ruby-red wing. He sighed. How Sierra had hated that bird when she first came to live with him; how it teased and bothered her every time she began to complain. Fortunately, Dominguez had missions of his own to complete; and they mostly been alone during the few weeks she stayed with him.

An uncomfortable emptiness suddenly welled up beneath his heart as the image of her pale silver hair danced into his mind, and he briefly pondered what caused it—the absence of nourishment in his body or the feeling he had when he turned over every night to find no soft, sleepy girl next to him.

_You'd think that after six months I'd be through with this_.

The new house was nice—he had to admit it. Promotions come with advantages, and this was a sweet prize. Living room, bedroom, cellar, even a small kitchen; just more room to stretch out. The living room he was presently sitting in was a warm, cozy area, with its comfortable sofa set in the middle of the room, in front of the oft-used fireplace. Large Calerian tapestries had been hung from the brown stone walls, and two small tables in the corners held the oil lamps that he used to read by.

_Too much for me…but it would have been enough for the both of us._

He got up and let his feet almost sink into the plush blue rug that lay across the hard stone floor. Resolving to go take care of the emptiness inside him, he crossed the room and was about to enter the kitchen when he heard a faint noise at the door.

He raised his eyebrows as he turned back to stare at the wooden door. A low knocking sounded from outside, a low banging that started out at the middle of the door. As if the person outside were slowly sinking down, the knocks quickly turned into a dull thumping, their sound muffled as the noises rapidly slid down the door and ended up at the very bottom, near the floor.

Who could it be? He hadn't been expecting anyone—his commander only came to see him about missions, and he had just completed a month-long expedition into the Outlands; surely it was early to be reassigned…

"Nash…" a thin, tired voice whispered.

No…to think…he did not dare to think it…

"Let me in…"

The familiar whisper sent a tremor of shock through his system; he barely had time to reason before he hurriedly bolted to the door, unfastened the latch and turned the knob so quickly the door almost flew off its hinges.

"Sierra?" he demanded, looking out into the dark plaza. "Sierra?"

"Here," she whispered, and he looked down to where she had collapsed at the threshold, the bloody tears flowing freely down her cheek as she struggled to raise herself up from the dusty floor. Her wispy hair collected against her face as she looked up at him, her ruby eyes blinking in vain to keep the anguish she felt inside from showing.

Relieved yet puzzled, he automatically knelt down and threw his arms around her, squeezing her in a tight embrace as she closed her eyes, humiliation and euphoria mixing within her suffering soul as she lay, still shaking, in his arms.

"I've returned…" she whispered before the world—the stars, the dust, his eyes—melted into a shapeless universe of black.

To be continued…

Note: I hope you all like that! Well, this story is folding out rather slowly…I had hoped to get to the meat of the tale, but first the proper atmosphere has to be laid out. So enjoy the side-trip into the Suikoverse! Teehee…

In the next chapter, Nash will discover the source of Sierra's mysterious illness…c'mon, you know you're dying to know what it is! Ohhh...and please remember to review! I love reading all your responses...they're what keeps me going strong!


	3. Essence

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Note: Yes…Sierra has…

Rebirth

Chapter 3: Essence

by ArchFaith

She was awakened by a thin trickle of water down her hot face, the feeling of a warm, wet towel being placed against her sweating forehead.

Confusion flooded her soul; where…where was she? The old village, once again? Or perhaps she had collapsed on the road, and some kind travelers had taken her in…

The towel was placed onto her head, and the soft hands which applied it now moved down to her damp cheek. She forced her eyes open, struggled to see through the red film of tears that still obscured her vision; but her sight was blurry, and she could not make out little more than a few familiar lines and colors.

"Nash?" she whispered, the sound little more than a gasp as she blinked, trying to take in the sight of him as he bent over her, smoothing her face with his hands.

He nodded. "Don't talk, old girl," he answered calmly, though a frown had formed on his face. "You're pretty sick."

She sighed as he smoothed the moist tendrils of silver hair away from her eyes. It was him…_him. _The emotions seemed to pour out of her heart as she noted his patient eyes looking down at her. She opened her mouth to speak—what would she say? That she loved him, that it was a grave mistake she made, that she wished to return to him permanently?

The great swell of pride suddenly surged into her heart, and swallowed up anything pleasant she could have possibly communicated. "Do not be unreasonable…vampires do not become ill," was the statement that tumbled out of her mouth. "And I, of all vampires, should not be an exception. This condition I am in is a severe anomaly."

He creased his brows. "You're sick and you know it."

Another sigh reverberated through her chest, followed swiftly by a short cough. The various emotions that had welled up inside of her seemed to slowly fade, and were now replaced by a weary neutrality. "Alright, alright," she admitted, coughing as she brought a hand to her slightly aching chest. "It is true that I have been feeling very strange as of late…my body is in very poor condition, I'm afraid."

He brought his hands away from her face to gently grasp her hand, which had been clutching the sheets of the bed. She turned her head, and tried to focus her eyes on his tanned face, his wavy hair. Ah yes—he was coming into view now. He was staring at her with a neutral expression—well, almost neutral. Underneath she could detect curiosity, anger, affection—all natural reactions. He taken it quite well in fact; quite well for the fact that his former lover had suddenly shown up at his door six months after she left him, ill and feverish.

And it was true, no matter how much she tried to deny it; she was incredibly sick. The migraine was gone now, but no doubt it would be back; now a disturbing hot feeling inside her brain made her feel light-headed and weak. She tried to shift her legs over and found that she could not; she could barely squeeze her toes against her foot before she let go, grimacing in pain.

Yes. Something was definitely wrong.

The boy was still holding her hand as she raised her weary eyes to his. "I apologize for being so terse," she whispered, trying to make her voice as mild as it could possibly be. "It is most likely a shock for you…to have me turn up like this, in this condition…?"

He nodded, his face intently fixed on hers. "Yeah."

She blinked and sighed, the colors and shapes of the room slowly sharpening before her still unfocused eyes. Beneath the comfortable covers of the bed her traveling clothes had been removed; instead she now donned a long white tunic shirt which had clearly been made for a man. The shirt reached halfway down her thighs, and the cuffs were folded up to make room for her slender hands. Her torn, dusty skirt and cape were folded and placed on a nightstand next to the bed, on which a new-looking oil lamp rested. The rest of the room was non-descript; there were two windows into which the yellow moon shone through, and a small mirror hung on the wall next to the bed. Nash was seated next to her on the bed, dressed simply in a white shirt and loose brown pants. Her gaze returned to his as she involuntarily squeezed his hand, trying to figure out what kind of explanation she would give him.

"Well…you are correct, boy. I am extremely ill…I have been having migraines lately, and my legs pain me to no end…they seem to have a mind of their own these days…"

He nodded. "But what happened? There has to be a reason…" Though he saw with his own eyes what condition she was in, the old lessons she had taught him lingered in his mind. Vampires were nearly invincible; vampires did not have the same physical limitations humans possessed; and lastly, vampires did not become ill.

"I do not know," she answered, momentarily raising her head. "I only know that, as time wore on, this illness became so unbearable I had to return…I did not have anywhere else…" At this she closed her eyes in annoyance. "…to go."

"I see," he replied thoughtfully after a moment, observing her half-closed red eyes. "You should've just said so in the first place." He placed a hand on her arm suddenly, as he used to do whenever he would move in to kiss her.

She had closed her eyes in anticipation when she realized that he was not moving closer to her. "Is that the only reason you came back?" he asked, a glint of hope audible in his tone.

She reached out, her fingers gently grasping a wavy blonde tendril of his hair as she gently pulled him closer. "Do not ask me any more questions, boy," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I realize that this is an imposition on my part…that I have no right to be in your house when it was I who left you six months ago. But allow me to rest for now…I will tell you everything in due time, I promise." She swallowed. "But I will tell you that one of the reasons I returned was because I knew you would look after me in this condition."

The frown was back on his face again as he reached up to grasp her hand, pressing it against his warm cheek. "Well, you were right, old girl," he said, as the general confusion gathered within the base of his being. He had never recalled seeing Sierra so…genuinely emotional. Truthful, even. He wanted to press her on, wished to ask her if she had returned because she needed him, felt the same way he had felt about her for six months; but such a thing would be unwise in her state.

Even if the state she was in was impossible by the standards of the supernatural world.

He gently lowered her hand down to her side as he slowly stood up. "Get some rest," he whispered as he tucked the blankets around her.

She sighed in obvious relief as she closed her eyes, let her body sink into the soft mattress as the warm covers were nestled around her. For once in her entire relationship with Nash she did not care that it was him looking after her, and not the other way around; of course, in their relationship, she knew she would always be the dominant spirit, the aggressive half, but for now she was weary; perhaps an equalization of sorts was in order. The thought had barely crossed her mind before the aura of sleep overtook her.

He sat for a little while, eying the sleeping vampire, pondering her ethereal beauty and her mysterious nature. A few minutes ago he had been thinking of her, thinking of their life together if she had stayed with him; and now, now that she was right in front of his eyes, he suddenly couldn't bring himself to imagine his life without her.

But what if she had returned to him in the same condition she left? Sarcastic, insulting…her regular attitude? Would he have been so kind to her then? Was it only because she was ill that he made an effort to keep her appeased?

He pushed the complex emotions out of his mind and looked down upon the tired girl. She was curled up in one of his old shirts, her hair slightly tangled against the white pillow. Her soft breathing pulsed through the room, brought a sort of comforting aura as he momentarily closed his eyes.

Well. Now was now, and the past was in the past. Perhaps he would give her a piece of his mind when she felt better; but for the time being, he'd do his best to keep her comfortable.

Now…what exactly _was _wrong with her?

He reached his hand out to grasp hers, which lay absently against her stomach. Her fingers slipped smoothly into his without resistance; ah, it was good she was asleep. He was not sure if she would have allowed such a display of affection if she had been awake—or would she? This Sierra was certainly different from the one he knew months ago; she was softer, more unassuming, easier to approach, it seemed. He did not know which one he loved best, but silently resolved to love whichever version emerged at the end.

She hadn't made a fuss about him undressing her…it was nothing he hadn't seen before, anyway. He chuckled, thinking about the insults she would hurl at him were to tell her that. Ah well. It was that very same attitude that kept him close to her in the first place.

_You're so difficult to understand, old girl._

Her fingers pressed his hand up to the soft white fabric drawn loosely over the pale flesh underneath. He sighed as he gave her hand a tight squeeze. Her skin was smooth and supple, and even in sickness she still retained her girlish beauty.

_I wonder how many men have fallen for you before._

He gently rose, his hand still clasping hers. "Sleep tight," he whispered. His hand was about to slip out of hers, about to leave the warmth of her body when—

**_Existence._**

"What the—" he gasped, immediately dropping her hand and wringing his own. He looked at her sleeping form as confusion seeped into his soul. What—what he had he felt? There was no one in the room with them; Dominguez was snoozing in the living room, and surely there was no one lurking about outside; but it was unmistakable, this…this _presence…_

He sighed as he looked around. No…he must have been hearing things….and yet…

He reached out again to touch Sierra's pale hand. The feeling…it had called out to him as soon as he had let go of her hand. Perhaps if he…

Nothing. Sighing, he once again laid her hand against the white fabric, let it down upon her slender stomach—

**_Rebirth. _**

He heard no words, saw no one materialize out of the still air. But someone was speaking to him; not exactly speaking, but thinking to him. Existence…rebirth…who was this…?

He looked to Sierra's prone form, her face peaceful against the soft white pillow. She was not producing these thoughts, no; but there was something within her—inside her…

Gingerly he reached out his hand, placed it once again on the white fabric stretched over her abdomen. At once the strange energy returned; it took him by surprise, seemed to swirl around his arm and wrap about his body, ensnaring him in a tight embrace one moment, letting go the next. And then fading, gradually, as perfume diffuses into a room; warm and friendly it had seemed, yet at the same time anxious, as though its fate were not yet clear—

**_You must allow her to see…_**

He was still sitting with his hand pressed up against her stomach when she batted one sleepy eye at him. "What are you doing?" she asked, yawning, her eyeteeth visible as she shifted slightly, pushing his hand off her body.

He turned his azure eyes to hers and shook his head. "Nothing, old girl. Just watching to see you don't run off again."

"Mmmm," she mumbled, her head sinking down onto the pillow once again. "You have no need to worry about that."

"I know," he answered, his fingers automatically reaching for her silvery strands. "Hey…Sierra?"

"Yes?" she whispered, deciding to momentarily tolerate his soft stroking.

"Did you hear anything while you were asleep? Like someone whispering or something?"

"No, none whatsoever."

"Ah…alright."

"Why?"

"Nothing. I must be hearing things." He gave her a reassuring smile as he slowly rose up off the bed. "I'm gonna get some rest myself. See you tomorrow."

She did not answer. She had drifted off once again, her red pupils no longer visible under the full set of eyelashes that crowned her lids. Sighing, he crossed the room and turned the knob on the door.

Giving her a last glance, he saw that her hand had once again moved to hover protectively over her stomach.

To be continued…

Note: If you're thinking _something_ about Sierra, it _might _be right. However, it also may _not be _right. And if you are going crazy, saying "Vampires can't do that!" then listen up: everything will be explained in due time. EVERYTHING. Be patient and keep reading! And remember to review, with any comments and constructive criticism to give me!

Special thanks to: Dark Shadow (thanks for sticking with me!), Pipp-ork (your randomness is quite refreshing), kissbyachainsaw (write more N/S!), thundersenshi (yay Filipinas rule!), Virtue (so glad you've converted to our side!) and musank (hope I satisfied your expectations!)

Coming up: Sierra, despite all her extrasensory perception, has no real insight into her unique condition. Nash takes it upon himself to convince her, along with the help of an old friend…


	4. Intricacy

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Author's note: Alright…I'm going to admit it…I know nothing about Dominguez's ability to speak! I assume he can talk because in the Suikoden III manga Domingez Jr. talks normally, like a human…if anyone knows anything about Dominguez, feel free to tell me, cause I got no idea! And Nash's "old friend" really is an old friend, not just a relationship I made up…besides being in Suikoden III, he was in Suikogaiden II as well…

Rebirth

Chapter 4: Intricacy

by ArchFaith

The first thing she was aware of was her hand, which was at the moment shielding her eyes from the strong sunlight that seeped in through the thin curtains of the window.

Blinking, she sat up, raising her fingers to her forehead. The migraines had not returned yet; but of course they would, in due time. Her legs, though still feeling dull and heavy, did not pain her nearly as much as before. Well, another spell gone. She would make the most of the time that she was left free to her, before the tormenting pains arrived once again.

With a sigh she slowly sat up, propping herself up on her arms as she gazed in annoyance at the strong sunlight. It was a good thing she had chosen to come back to Caleria at a time when the wind was cool, and the air pleasant; she did not think she could have returned to the sweltering desert days once again. But the sunlight…the sunlight was another story. So bright, so cheerful, so opposite from her feelings. She glared at the thin curtains and wondered if her aversion to sunlight was a personal preference; after all, some of the other vampires had loved the light, even though it partially weakened them during the day.

Her mind had once again wandered back to that infernal little village. She scowled before standing up. The shirt Nash had given her reached down to the middle of her pale thighs; she gently smoothed it out before she crossed the room, the pads of her bare feet making a gentle tapping noise along the cool stony floor. She opened the door of the room and found herself standing in the large living area, with its sofa and rug laid out beneath. Looking around, she detected the vague sounds of ceramic rattling against tin; looking to a small door on the other side of the room, she went to it and pushed it open.

The blonde swordsman was on his knees in front of a rattling tin stove, carefully turning over hot coals inside the stove's grated door. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shifted her weight onto one leg and smirked. "Well, well, well," she began. "Doing a housewife's work, I see."

Slightly surprised, Nash quickly turned to give her a cocky smile. "Well, morning to you too, dearest," he greeted as he rose, slamming the iron grate, causing the red coals to shake within. "Have a good rest?"

She cocked her head and frowned. "I suppose."

He grinned again, then turned back to the steaming oven. "I'm cooking up a late breakfast," he began as he set a metal pan down onto the center of the steaming grill. "Can I interest you in anything?"

"Hmph," she whispered half-heartedly as she scanned the small space. Narrower than the other rooms of the house, the kitchen was an almost cozy place. It was a small stony room, with the squat little stove in the corner, steaming away; in another corner was a roughly-made cabinet, and next to it a small sink. In a third corner were a few sacks and barrels of what appeared to be rice, grains and dried meats. A small table was pushed up against the wall, with a chair on either side. Coupled with the sight of Nash bending down over the black woodstove, reaching for some kind of ingredient out of the cabinet, it appeared to her as an almost familiar scene.

So…normal. Perhaps too normal.

She swiftly seated herself on the straw chair by the table and propped her head in her hands, looking up at him as he continued cooking. "You wouldn't happen to have any clothes I could use?"

"Hey, what's wrong with wearing mine?" he questioned as he cracked a large egg over the pan, watching as the yolk and white dripped out of the broken shell.

"Well, you may settle for wearing rough, ugly clothing, but I require more of a selection," she answered, scowling at him.

"Heh," he chuckled, his back still turned away from her. "Right. I'll gear you up with a desert outfit right away. Let's see, you'd need a thick robe, a hat, a dust veil—"

"Oh be quiet! Honestly…" Even though she realized he was teasing her, she quickly remembered that she was considered a guest in his house. "Ah…but if that is all that is available, I shall just have to make do with my own garments."

He immediately noted the change in her demeanor. Well…she was making an effort to be polite after all. It was awfully nice of her. "I'm sure we can cook up something, old girl," he answered, emptying a bowl of diced onions into the omelet. "Hey…'cook' up something! Get it?"

The stupid joke only served to annoy her once more. She crossed her legs and watched as he picked up the pan and swerved it quickly several times. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye; his azure pupils caught hers, and he quickly looked away as she averted her own to the floor.

Both suddenly felt embarrassed at their own disregard of the various situations that lay ahead of them; but it was only when Nash had finished cooking the meal, had set the plate of eggs and fried vegetables down in front of her that they spoke again.

He gently pushed the plate towards her. "I know you don't eat…but you should try having something. Maybe it will help you get better."

She shook her head. "I seriously doubt eating mortal food with heal me, Nash." She sighed, slowly blinking her ruby eyes in frustration. "Well…it is morning. And I did promise to explain to you my condition, and my reasons for returning…would you still care to hear it?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"Very well…you see…when I left you, I traveled far and wide for many weeks—how many, I cannot say. But I only knew that I traveled back to my so-called hometown—the Blue Moon Village. I stayed there for a while, in peace; perhaps only partial peace. For you see, a few weeks after I returned, strange pains seemed to overcome me as I lay down each day. Migraines mostly; and then my legs would give out under me as I walked. I dismissed these as momentary annoyances, thought they would abate with time; however, I soon discovered it was not the case. The pains only deepened, and began to affect me at all odd hours of the day—it soon became clear that I could not escape this illness, or whatever it was…"

It was, perhaps, the most she had ever said in one sitting during the whole time he had ever known her. Realizing this, she stopped to look him in the eye. He was staring at her intently, one arm resting on the table, the other propping his head up. Between them the plate of hot food was slowly beginning to lose its warmth.

"And so…I decided to return back here. As I explained before; I knew that I could depend on you, that I could count on you to assist me should I require your help."

"Mmmm," he mumbled, steadying his eyes on her. "You came to me because you trusted me."

"Yes," she nodded, brushing the wispy hair out of her eyes.

He leaned back, folded his arms protectively over his chest as a frown crossed his lips. "You couldn't have gone to anyone else?"

She could hardly believe her ears. "What?"

"I—I'm sorry," he said quickly. "It's just…to tell you the truth, Sierra…I don't know if your coming here was such a good idea…for both of us."

Her face turned sharp as she eyed him. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…" he leaned forward, knocked absently on the surface of the table as he continued. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, old girl…I am. Don't get me wrong. But…all this coming and going is a lot for me to handle. I'll admit it—it is."

"…explain what you mean."

"Alright," he said, his voice taking on a challenging tone as he sat up in the straw chair. "When you left six months ago, I tried to forget about you. I tried to forget you existed, I tried to forget the sight of you, the feel of you, everything about you. And for a while it didn't work. In fact, I failed miserably at first." A scowl, so characteristic to her own face yet alien to his, had formed on his lips. "Time passed…I learned to move on. I knew there was always going to be some part of me that missed you, but I suppressed it. I put it away. And up until last night, I was fine. Or almost fine, anyway." He hesitated for a moment, than continued. "And then you collapse at the foot of my doorway, sick and feverish—well, what was I supposed to do? Help you, of course…and now, now that you're back here with me, I learn the only reason you came was because you needed some help." His tone was dark now; angry as his azure eyes seemed to light on fire as he glared at her. "Not because you needed me…but because you felt _sick_."

"What…what are you getting at?" she asked, her heart genuinely touched by this sudden show of confused affection.

He sighed, the sound of his breathing sending a glimmer of weariness into her soul. "I'm sorry if I'm being harsh to you, old girl...you are kind of ill, after all…but can I ask you just one question?" She nodded, her ruby eyes confused as his resigned face settled upon her gaze.

"Did you ever—"

He hadn't even finished the sentence when a quick spasm suddenly erupted inside of her; her eyes flew upon in shock as she brought her hand to her stomach, a gasp escaping her lips as she nearly doubled over the pain. "Ah!" she whispered as the searing aches engulfed her stomach, filling her trembling body with ripples of intense soreness, quickly spreading from her stomach up through her chest, down to her legs, and filling every space in between with a kind of parasitic hurt; she fell forward, and in a moment she was lying in his arms once again, his troubled face bending over hers as he hugged her close to his body.

"Sierra! What's wrong? What's happening?"

It was as if ten thousand swords had pierced their way into her abdomen, bending and turning their rusted blades every which way into the soft flesh. Her hands trembled as she brought her fingers down to her stomach, her face twisted into an expression of pure agony.

"Oh god…Nash…it has never been this…_this_…"

She closed her eyes, her silvery head writhing on his shoulder as he quickly brought his hand to her stomach, laid it down upon her middle as he had the night before. "Here? Is it coming from here?" he asked her breathlessly.

She nodded weakly as the dull pain shot through her body once again, bringing forth a fresh surge of painful energy as she squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers leaving her stomach to pull on the collar of his white shirt. "You must help me, boy…I know I have greatly wronged you…but…even you hate me, loathe my presence…just…you must…"

Her last thought was a silent self-curse for her weakened spirit as her fingers gently loosened their grip on his shirt, her eyes fluttering and then closing, her body immediately going limp in his arms. The bloody tears had begun to form beneath her closed eyelids, and traced a small stream of anguish down her cheek; he quickly brushed it away, smoothing her pale, sweaty cheek with his hand.

Gently he stood, swinging her slender legs over his arms, her head limply swaying on his shoulder. "My old girl," he whispered, as he gingerly carried her across the room, towards the doorway leading to the living room, "I could never really hate you."

(-)

Dominguez was already awake as Nash grimly exited the bedroom, a weary look spread on his tanned face. She had collapsed again—and at such a convenient time, too. But it was not her fault; he knew this deep within him, but silently cursed the fact that she had to fall ill at the very moment he had been stating his convictions. One more look at her pale, suffering face and he was not sure he would able to continue down that line of thought.

The red bird, sensing its master's consternation, quickly hopped up onto his shoulder and gave him an affectionate bite on the ear. Nash's eyes danced over to the bird, and he forced out a smile.

"That woman is back," Dominguez began, without any display of politeness.

He nodded. "Yeah. Sure is."

"She seemed sick."

"She is. Very sick."

Dominguez cocked his head. "Will she stay for a long time?"

"Why you asking, boy?" Nash answered, grinning genuinely now. "Bet you just want to annoy her again." He would never forget how tormented Sierra had been whenever Dominguez had been around; the world-weary vampire had never compatible with Dominguez's often snappy nature, and had more than once given the bird a not so gentle push off the table. Luckily, the bird had been away most of the time Sierra had stayed with him; this time around, though, he wasn't sure the bird would so be so busy…

Dominguez did not reply; he merely swooped off Nash's shoulder and landed on the windowsill, ruffling his feathers as if in mischievous contemplation.

Their little talk was interrupted by a swift knock on the door. Nash's cerulean eyes immediately darted to this new source of distraction. "Who the hell could that be?" he murmured to no one in particular, his face troubled as he slowly advanced towards the wooden frame. Another disturbance…as if he hadn't had enough in one day. It couldn't be his mission commander, waiting with another assignment for him to complete; it was too early to be put out into the field again, and even if he had the option he could not go, not with Sierra in this condition…

The knocking suddenly stopped, and was replaced by a gruff, familiar voice calling through the door. "Hey kid! Gonna let me in or what?"

A rush of relief flooded his system as he hurried to the door and flung it open, grinning at the figure who stood staring back at him in the doorway, framed by a strong arch of Calerian sunshine. "Wang, you old scoundrel!"

The man standing in the doorway smiled warmly. He looked to be perhaps ten or so years older than Nash, with long black hair tied in a ponytail reaching halfway down his back, and a bushy mustache gracing his upper lip. He had a portly stature, and his muscled body was clothed in a flashy purple suit which was lined in gold thread. A series of feathered and beaded necklaces were hung about his neck, and when he smiled, it was obvious he had some gold teeth.

The man stepped inside and proceeded to give the blonde swordsman a generous slap on the back. "There you are, kid! Haven't seen you for ages!"

"Heh…would've been better if it stayed that way. Last time you were around, you gambled my nice little bonus down the drain!" Nash answered good-naturedly, closing the door behind him. "You should've told me you were going to be in town!"

"I did," the man answered back. "You didn't get my note?"

"Note?" Ah…the note. The same note Dominguez had slipped into his hand last night—the one he had let drift to the floor, and had promptly forgotten about once Sierra arrived. "Ah…guess I forgot to read it, Wang."

The man creased his eyebrows in slight annoyance. "Hey hey hey," he chided, giving Nash a mocking glare. "Stop with all this 'Wang' business. My name's Joker now—remember how I got reassigned to Unit Twelve? We've all been given code names…that's mine. Can't have you calling me 'Wang' when everyone else calls me Joker, now."

Joker—Joker. Hmm, the name was fitting for him. Nash quickly recalled the first time they had ever laid eyes on each other; when the swordsman was little more than a lucky spy, trying to escape from a mistaken situation, and the older man was an experienced mercenary, ready to inflict a good amount of pain on those who tried to run away; nonetheless, the young man had impressed him with his fighting prowess, and had earned his way out of confinement.

"Hah. Joker…right. Maybe the name will rub off on you and we can earn us some money up at the bar."

"Right, just what I was thinking!" the purple-clad man answered, a sly look now appearing on his face. "Not busy, are you? As my father always said, you can never start drinking too early in the day…"

"Ah…now hold on," Nash answered, the grin slowly fading from his face. "I can't leave just yet."

"Why not? Waiting for something?"

"No…it's just…I'm looking after somebody right now. Somebody's who hasn't been doing too well lately."

Joker whistled. "Oh, is that right? Who's this mysterious somebody?"

Nash averted his eyes. As much as he would have liked to keep his relationship with Sierra, and her mysterious illness, on the quiet side, he knew Joker would probably press the issue until he learned the cause of Nash's sudden discomfort.

"Well? C'mon, you can tell good ol' Joker," the purple-clad man prodded, putting a hand on his hip. Dominguez squawked in amusement, prompting a glare from his master. Should he? One side of him told him that his whole situation should be kept secret, that he could handle it by himself; but another part of him, confused and slightly unnerved, protested. It was bad enough that Sierra had just shown up, without any warning, ill and feverish one night; it became even worse as he realized he had no medical training, and would not be able to discern her sickness unless he brought her to a real doctor…and well, that was out of the question, since any doctor he brought her to would surely sell them out to Harmonia in no time flat—imagine, a vampire in captivity! Oh, he could just see the headlines…

"You have some experience with healing people, don't you, old pal?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly more calculating than he had intended it to sound as his eyes shifted to his portly friend.

Joker cocked his head. "Well, I _did_ study to become a field doctor for two years before I quit and took up this line of work. Forget about that?"

Nash shook his head. "Not at all. Which is why…could you do me a favor?"

"What kind of favor?"

"Look…my friend here is pretty sick. I don't know what's wrong with her…well, I have a hunch, but—"

"_Her_?" Joker repeated, letting his tongue roll over the single syllable. His mouth slowly creased into a wide grin under his bushy mustache as he gave Nash a sly grin. "Uh oh, I knew there was trouble. What'd you do to her, eh? Give it to her too hard last night?"

Nash sighed. Ahh, beloved crudeness. In any other case he would have loved to kid around, but this was definitely not the time. "Remember that woman I told you about? The one who left me a few months ago?"

"Yeah…she the same one?"

"You got it."

"Ah, she come crawling back to ya? Begging you to take her back?"

The corners of his mouth almost twitched as he imagined Sierra crawling on her hands and knees. "No, not exactly. But the bottom line is…she's in a really bad condition. She tells me she always has headaches, and her legs hurt…and she's been having fainting spells."

Joker silently stroked his chin for a few moments, giving Nash a thoughtful look as he considered the possibilities. "You should take her to a doctor then. Sounds serious."

"That's the thing…I can't. My friend is…unique, I guess you could say. One of a kind. She's a little different than an ordinary woman."

Joker raised his eyebrows. "Well…you told me she was one hell of a woman, but I didn't expect her to be _that_ special!" He sighed matter-of-factly and gave Nash a gentle grin. "Tell you what, kid. They didn't train me in a hospital for two years for nothing. If you let me have a look at her maybe we can figure out what's wrong."

The blonde boy's azure eyes glinted in the sunshine as he gave his old friend a grateful smile.

To be continued…

Note: Alright, Sierra's illness still hasn't been revealed…but no we're at least a little bit closer to finding out what it is, right? Ol' Joker's gonna find out for us! While you're waiting, please review…I need comments and critiques (and chocolate) to survive!

GreatLight432: Thanks for reviewing…perhaps you've guessed the true cause of the illness…

Pipp-ORK: Well, some people claim to be vampire experts…or vampires themselves…

musank: My belief is that curiosity never killed the cat!

Aoi-butterfly: Thanks for the luv!

BlUe-BoI: uh…you really think so?

Virtue: Might be right, might be wrong…

On an interesting note…this is the first I've ever included a full-fledged third character into my Nash/Sierra fics. If you'll recall, my other N/S fics were strictly just the two of them…and Joker being "Wang" is canon, by the way. He and Nash met each other in Suikogaiden II.

In the next chapter: Joker and Nash examine Sierra, and come to some surprising results…


	5. Source

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Quick note: This one took a while…it was because my auntie and cousin were visiting, and I was kinda distracted…but anyways…here it is!

Rebirth

Chapter 5: Source

by ArchFaith

She heard the muffled noise of a door creaking open, of two pairs of feet making their way into the hot, stifling room where she lay, unable to move a muscle as the footsteps shuffled towards her. Drifting in and out of various states of consciousness, she momentarily lifted an eyelid, observed the dark shapes moving against the curtain, coming nearer to her as she blinked with indifference. Helpless against the whims of her own body, her ruby eye languidly closed, and she was prisoner to her inner self once more.

(-)

The blonde boy's mind was slightly agitated as he and Joker quietly entered the room. Being careful to close the door behind him, his eyes immediately darted to the weak, miserable vampire lying asleep on his messy bed; surely this did not look good to his friend. But then again, what other choices did he have? Indeed, it might have been a blessing that Joker had shown up when he did—the sooner the source of this problem was located, the better. And Joker _could _be trusted; out of any friend he had made since his aristocratic expulsion from Harmonia, he trusted this old scoundrel the most. No betrayal would befall this relationship; he was sure of it.

Sierra's hand rested idly upon her stomach as Nash approached the bed, the older man respectfully following behind. "Well," Joker murmured, thoughtfully observing the pale girl, "you told me she was cute, kid, but I wasn't expecting such a knockout!"

A forced half-grin formed on Nash's troubled face as he turned back to his friend. "Yeah, yeah," he answered, scratching the back of his head. "Ogling her all day isn't going to get us anywhere, old man."

"I know," Joker answered, coming to stand at the side of the bed next to Nash. "Afraid it's not going to be a very thorough exam, though…I don't have any tools with me, see. Wasn't expecting to be put on doctor's duty when I came to see ya."

"That's alright. Just have a quick look at her." His eyes darted down to her closed eyelids. "I don't know if it will take you very long to figure out what's wrong with her."

Joker nodded, his hand absently stroking his chin. "Okay then. You undress her though. Don't want you to accuse me of having sticky fingers!"

The side of Nash's mouth twitched as he quickly bent down and began to undo the clasps on Sierra's white shirt.

(-)

Two voices—one was the boy, and the other…unfamiliar. A friend of his, perhaps…? The low, muffled tones were difficult for her to discern as she drifted deep within her own unconscious mind, straining to hear through the deep veil of silence.

"….cute…such a…."

"…figure out what's….her…"

"…me…sticky fingers…"

The two voices ebbed and convulsed like ocean tides, developing slowly into a deep, loud murmuring. As much as she tried to open her eyes, tried to tune her ears to hear the conversation, it was a failed venture. Senses dulled, she reluctantly sought to keep awake, to keep one little ounce of her spirit active as she strained to put some kind of meaning into the conversation they were having.

Hmm…apparently Nash meant for this strange man to examine her. _Insolent fool_, she thought angrily, the frustrated thoughts burning through her inner soul. _How dare he allow a complete stranger to see me as such? Perhaps he wants to show off the prize he has won…perhaps he will abandon me to my fate…_

The incoherent ideas tumbled in and out of her mind as she felt Nash's familiar hands slowly unbuttoning her shirt. Try as she might, she could not move a muscle—if she had been able to do so, she would have killed them both, Nash _and _this strange doctor. Embarrassing enough that she had to be seen by anyone in this condition; that she should be seen unclothed by a stranger…

_Such an idiot, boy. As always…but you will pay for this in time._

She let herself be comforted by the vengeful thought as unfamiliar hands, calloused but gentle, suddenly set themselves against her heart, underneath her breasts. She sighed as she slowly reminded herself that there was nothing she could do about it; perhaps the best thing would be to allow this mortal doctor to examine her, no matter how embarrassing it might be. There might be a small chance that whatever he had to say was worth hearing.

"…low heartbeat….weird…"

"Oh…always been…born with it."

At least the boy was trying to make a good excuse for her extremely low heart rate. Unable to do anything, she quickly realized that Nash was only trying to do the best for her, and that to spite him for any humiliation she might feel was foolish. Praying beyond hope that this doctor was an honest man, she resigned herself to the subconscious as the examination moved down her ribcage, and onto her white stomach.

Here the hands gently pressed against her abdomen, causing a tight little wall of pain to suddenly spring up inside of her. Her mind rapidly tried to suppress the pressure as the doctor's hands settled onto her stomach, gently patting the area around her bellybutton. What was so important about her stomach, anyway? She was sure the center of pain was located elsewhere…

"…careful…gentle…"

The hands rested on her stomach for a while, gently massaging and patting her abdomen for a few minutes as her puzzled mind seemed to turn over in impatience. She heard Nash shuffling his feet—he was becoming restless. And so was she. What exactly was this man doing? Why was he focusing so much on her stomach? Surely there had to be other places in her body that needed to be looked at; her head, her legs…her stomach had only very recently started to pain her. Of course any stomach cramps weren't the main problem…

The hands suddenly left her body, and she heard the strange man turn around as he stood up.

"…serious….go outside…"

The next sensation was of Nash quickly buttoning up her shirt again, then turning to leave the room with the doctor following behind him. Apparently something had happened—something had troubled the doctor, caused him to become disturbed or curious. It was probably due to her vampiric anatomy; perhaps something inside was not quite the way it would be in a mortal, and this had scared him.

Well, she couldn't blame him. She was quite a strange woman, that was true. But…perhaps it could have been….something else entirely? But what, then? What could this illness possibly be? She had given up on any rational claims, and doubted that the interference of a mortal doctor would contribute to the scant information she had already gathered.

The last bit of energy was used up, and the small part of activity her soul was witnessing slowly began to fade. Resolving to consult—and beat up—Nash when she awoke, she let her weary body drift into fitful slumber.

(-)

"I tell ya, kid. They train all the medical students to be able to tell the symptoms."

Nash's eyes were wide as he stared back at the older man. "That's just not possible, Joker. I mean…it's impossible…"

"And why wouldn't it be?" Joker leaned against the arm of the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. A frown formed on his lips as he eyed the blonde swordsman. "You're a man, she's a woman. Put two and two together."

His mind reeled at the information his friend had just imparted with him. Of course he had had an inkling of it, had felt that this result might be a possibility; but it had never actually crossed his mind that it would come true. Never.

_It was impossible…_

"Listen now," he began, his azure eyes blazing as he looked to his friend. "You might think it's a natural thing, but it _isn't_ natural. For Sierra, anyway. She can't do that…she lost the ability to do that a long time ago."

Joker shook his head. "Well, if that's what she told you she was wrong. Nope…everything's working just fine inside her. The conditions were just right, I reckon…"

The blonde boy creased his eyebrows in frustration. "You don't understand, Joker…Sierra has many abilities, but she just can't—"

Joker unwaveringly shook his head. "I've seen a few of these cases before, kid. I oughta know…and I hate to tell you this, but it looks like you and her weren't thinking well enough of the consequences when you two had your time together. It's harsh, but it's the truth."

"There wasn't any need to think of consequences!" His voice had risen to a shout now, as an angry frown crossed his lips. "Look, Sierra is…well, different. Her body is different from a normal woman's…and it's impossible for her to—"

Joker sighed deeply. "Well, you aren't going to listen to me, I see." He gave Nash a serious look before he continued. "But then how are you going to explain her illnesses? Migraines, leg cramps…then this fainting episode this morning. And I examined her, Nash. You mentioned something about being careful near her stomach…c'mon now, didn't you have a feeling something like this was gonna come up?"

It was Nash's turn to sigh as he brought his hand up to his forehead, praying that a migraine of his own would not suddenly turn up. "I don't know. I just…ah…" Dominguez, noticing his master's troubled air, swooped off the edge of the cabinet and landed squarely on Nash's shoulder. As the bird affectionately nibbled on his earlobe he raised his head. "Listen…thanks for stopping by, old man. Sorry your visit had to turn into such a mess."

Joker shook his head. "Don't worry about me, kid. Worry about her. And you. And how you're gonna deal with all this when the times comes."

Nash watched, with a seeming indifference, as Joker quietly found his way to the door. Clasping the metal knob with a strong hand, he stopped on the threshold as he turned back to his young friend. "Listen…if you'd want it…I know some people who do a little side business for girls like her…they could help you out…"

Glaring with a hawk like intensity, the boy's azure eyes quickly traveled to his older friend. "I appreciate your advice…but I'm not even going to consider doing that," he declared, calmly brushing Dominguez off his shoulder without hesitation.

Joker nodded, as if in anticipation of the answer. "I knew you wouldn't. I never would either. Just thought you might like to know." He cocked his head in sympathy as he observed the frustrated look on the boy's face. "You're pretty young yet, kid. Look…if you need me to look at her again, I'll be at my usual room at headquarters, alright? Don't think twice about calling for me."

His azure eyes seemed glued to the ground as he opened his mouth to speak. "Thanks," was the only word he could choke out. Frowning, Joker gently shut the door, the frame gently trembling as the boy heard his heavy footsteps padding against the sandy floor of the ground outside the house.

A sudden, almost gasping sigh escaped his throat as his eyes remained on the closed wooden door, his eyes tracing the small cracks etched onto the smooth surface.

"Master?" the bird's high-pitched voice squawked. "Master?"

He did not answer; his mind, worried and anxious only a few minutes ago, was now…now…he did not know what it was. Perplexed? Definitely. Protective? That as well. And ever more worried and anxious. Now he wished he had never asked Joker to examine Sierra…it had only brought another unexpected problem into his life, one he did not possibly handle…

But it could not be so! It was impossible for a vampire to do such a thing! Surely Joker had mistaken her condition; her body had stopped functioning normally over eight hundred years ago—why would it start working again now? What had brought it to be? And if it were always possible for Sierra to achieve such a condition, then why hadn't it occurred when she was with Rean?

But still, he had had a notion that Sierra's condition was not coincidental; Joker had only confirmed it. The voice, the small voice that had spoken to him just last night…so firm, yet still so uneasy. But truthful.

Besides, what other possible cause could there be?

His distraught reverie was suddenly brought to a close by a muffled stirring from the bedroom. Raising his head, he automatically walked to the door, slightly ajar, and glanced inside. The vampire's ruby eyes were half-open; her face turned to his as soon as she saw him appear at the door. Too weak to summon an angry face, she settled upon a questioning glance as she slowly made a simple gesture with her hand.

In a moment he was sitting down next to her, his hand tightly grasping hers. "You…you have quite a nerve, my boy," she whispered, her eyes staring up at his. "I assure you, if I were not confined to this deathbed you would be dead in the blink of an eye."

His normal response would be to tease and ridicule her; but he could not think up a standard retort in his troubled state of mind. "Sorry, old girl," he answered weakly. "I just thought having my friend take a look at you would be of some help to us."

"Oh? And I suppose 'your friend' is an expert at such things, is he? He looked like another one of your low-down, drunken mercenary friends to me."

"He was trained as a doctor for two years before he joined the SFDF…I was thinking he might have a clue as to what was wrong."

"Hmph…you have no idea how humiliating it was for me," she whined, her thin mouth twisting into a pout. "To lie naked in front of a total stranger! What were you aiming to do, you idiot? Show off your captive prize?"

He knew that her feelings were only surface-deep; that somewhere, within her soul, she herself felt just as anxious and tortured as he did. He looked into her ruby eyes once again; his serious demeanor, so different from his usual teases, caught her quite off guard. The worried look on his face literally killed any negative feelings she had towards him; in a sudden wash of guilt, she inexplicably felt red tears welling up under her eyelids. "Ahh," she whispered, as a crimson stream slowly formed down her cheek. "You are upset."

In a moment his fingers were gently wiping the stream away. "Why are you crying, old girl?"

She shook her head. "I do not know. Perhaps it is because you seem distressed." She closed her eyes. "Perhaps it is because we have so few options open to us…I am sorry for bringing this pain to you, Nash; I brought you so much grief months ago, and I have only returned to bring you more."

"Don't say that," he whispered as he reached out his hand, twirled a strand of silvery hair between his fingertips. "I'm not upset, you see…just kind of shocked. But not upset."

She cocked her head. "Shocked?" she repeated, sitting up, propping her back against the white pillow. "Why? What did that man say to you? Surely his thoughts are misguided…he was examining me as he would a mortal patient, when I am much more than that."

He did not reply.

"Nash?"

No reply.

"You imbecile!" she exclaimed, some of the old acidity returning as she quickly reached out to give him a mild slap on the cheek. "You claim to be a man, yet your actions are like those of a child! Will you not tell me what he said? What could possibly be so disturbing to you?"

He raised his eyes to hers, trying, in one instant, to convey everything he felt for her—love, admiration, frustration, pain…all those things. More. She had to know that he needed her, that he could not survive without her; and that it was right, it was right she had returned to him now; now, in this most impossible position, they had to go together. They could not go through it apart.

He grasped her hand tightly as he steadily held her bewildered gaze.

"You're pregnant, Sierra."

To be continued…

Author's note: Well, there ya go! Hope it was dramatic enough…and yeah, I think most of you got the picture and knew that yes, Sierra (and Nash) have a little bun in the oven...And yeah yeah yeah, vampires can't pregnant and all that, but don't worry…I've got it all planned out. It's all gonna work out in the end, just wait and see. I'll have a good explanation. And please stay tuned for the next chapter…it'll be a smash, I'll tell you that! Now please review, it really brightens up my days to hear all your comments and constructive criticism regarding this fic of mine!

Kuroi Neko-kun: Pick, pick, pick! Well, I hope your brain feels alright now…

GreatLight432: Hehehe…Nash is basically shocked out of his mind…as for Sierra…well, we'll see…

Virtue: Sorry bout the wait! I'll try to write faster next time, teehee.

Aoi-butterfly: Uh, not sure what you mean. This story takes place after Suikoden II for Sierra, and after both Suikogaidens I and II for Nash. But before Suikoden III, though. So Nash isn't all old yet.

Next chapter: It's impossible…but it's real. A miracle, or a curse is disguise? Sierra refuses to believe while Nash does her worrying for her.


	6. Innocence

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Rebirth

Chapter 6: Innocence

by ArchFaith

_You're pregnant, Sierra._

She heard what he said, saw his face as he said it, felt the gentle pressure of his fingers looped into her own as the words came out of his mouth.

"What?" she whispered automatically, leaving no time for any thoughts to cross her mind. "What did you just say?"

Nash sighed, slowly squeezing her pale fingers as a frown appeared on his face. He knew she wouldn't believe him, knew that with her, he could never hope to argue; even the simplest of truths she believed to be lies. Now, with this impossible statement, how could he ever sway her? Nonetheless, he had to.

"You're pregnant, old girl," he repeated. "You're—you're going to have a child."

Her sleepy eyes suddenly snapped open, and she quickly wrenched her hand out of his grasp. "Are you trying to insult me!" she demanded, the anger rising in her voice as crossed her arms over her chest. "Is that what your friend told you? That I was _pregnant_?" The old familiar scowl had returned to her face, and even though it had been one of the things he had been hoping to see again, it was, for the time being, unwelcome. "What kind of nonsense is that? Need I remind you that I am a vampire, for God's sake? Honestly, you naïve little—"

"Sierra," he interrupted, his voice low. "Now just listen to me for a moment…look, I know this whole thing sounds stupid, alright? But then how do you explain your illness? You know as well as I know that vampires are immune to human diseases…so what else could it be besides—"

"Immune to human diseases, and incapable of human pregnancy as well!" she interjected, hurriedly sitting up in the bed. "If that is what was worrying you so much, you needn't worry any longer. I thought you had more sense in you, but I suppose I was wrong!"

"Yeah? Then how do you explain the migraines? Or the leg cramps, huh? This sickness has been affecting you for months now…what else could it be? A cold? A fever? Or maybe you're just slowly fading out of existence…"

"Do not mock me, boy!" she whispered, in a low, dangerous tone. "I may not know what exactly is wrong with my body, but I do know that the only thing existing within it is my soul, and nothing—"

A small, tingling feeling had rapidly begun to descend down her spine as she spoke. She had initially tried to push it away, to dismiss it as but a trifle, but the pressure bearing down on her had now increased. As she brought her hand to the middle of her stomach the pressure suddenly erupted into a kind of dull pain, with small, pinprick-like pangs slowly piercing through her abdomen, an aftershock of the tremendous discomfort she had felt earlier in the day.

"Oh," she sighed, bringing both her hands to her stomach as Nash leaned forward, his worried face stretched in alarm.

"What is it?" he demanded, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Are…are you hurting again?"

A box of sharp needles had seemingly tumbled open inside her thin stomach as she looked up at him, her teeth gritted, red tears pooling at the base of her eyelashes. "It's nothing," she managed to falter out, "nothing I can't handle…ahhh…."

The inner needles were threatening to pierce through her stomach now, to rise up out of the fine pale skin, sharp and bloody as they started piercing her from within. "Ooooh," she whispered, starting to tremble as the pain seared through her stomach. "Nash…oh gods…"

A strange feeling suddenly overcame as she lay writhing on the bed, her hands pressed tight against her stomach as the agonizing pain engulfed her. It was a small feeling at first, just an inkling; but gradually, the pull became stronger, the direction of its emotion more evident as she focused on the strange sentiment, struggling for a way to distract herself from the torture that was slowly devouring her. A small feeling, almost microscopic…a vague sense of calmness, almost if some unknown source was trying to comfort her, to reassure her. It was tiny, a small, pent-up emotion scratched out inside of her; and, as much as she tried to find it, to determine its cause, to see what exactly it was, she could not.

By the time she opened her eyes the pain, though still stirring around inside her, was slowly receding. Nash was still sitting next to her, running his warm hands up and down her shoulders, his face worried as his azure eyes quickly locked on her white face. She slowly sat up, trembling hands still on her stomach as she focused her ruby eyes to his.

"What else did your friend say?" she asked, her voice sounding thin and defeated as she narrowed her eyes. No telling what kind of emotions she was feeling now; she was always hard to read, his old girl, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her at such a strange time as this.

"Not too much else," he answered, propping himself up with his muscular arms. "Just…just that he thought you were pregnant."

She slowly blinked; keeping her face turned to his she absently brushed a piece of hair off her damp forehead. "Did he say how many months he thought it had been?"

"No," the blonde boy replied, patting her arm gently.

She was silent for a while, her eyes half-open as the confused contemplations sprang up in her heart once more, her hands folded upon her stomach as Nash continued watching her, his brows knitted in anxiousness. She did not believe him—or did she? She seemed almost resigned during their last exchange, but he knew it would only take the strongest of evidence to completely convince her…

Finally she spoke again. "This sort of thing is impossible, you realize…I do not know what to think. On one hand, it is unfeasible that an eight hundred year old vampire should conceive a child…but on the other, what else could this illness possibly be? I have not experienced anything like it in all my lifetime…one solution is just as cloudy and confusing as the other…"

His hand was resting on hers once more. "Surely…if this is the case, that I do happen, by some impossible trick of nature, to be carrying some freakish brat…there would be a way of ridding ourselves of it?" She hadn't meant to say so bluntly; the words had just slipped out, and she regretted saying them as soon as she closed her mouth.

"Why would you say that?" he asked sharply, giving her a look. "You'd want to destroy it?"

"No, no…but there is no way of knowing exactly what the nature of this being may be," she answered. "You told me it spoke to you…perhaps it is malevolent. The old legends and stories…dismissed as myths, perhaps. But maybe, in this case they might be true."

"And what if they aren't? What if…what if this kid turns out to be normal?"

"In my opinion, any child conceived between a vampire and a mortal would certainly not be normal," she replied, the old acidity springing back into her voice. "But then, who is sure of what the future will bring…" She shifted her eyes to the window, seemingly gazing into the distance. "Nash…if this impossible notion is indeed correct, as I now feel it may very well be…you realize what this will mean, do you not?"

He slowly nodded as he brushed a small piece of blonde wavy hair out of his eyes. "It will mean…that you and I are going to be parents."

She blinked. "Imagine that." She turned her eyes to him. "You are young yet, my boy."

"And you're very old."

Frowning, she narrowed her eyes, suddenly feeling an irrational urge to start crying. "We do not fit, you and I. This…this entire ordeal should have never occurred. But…I suppose, until there is other evidence…that I am—"

She was trembling suddenly, her lithe frame quivering as though she was chilled by a non-existent wind. She looked to him with pained eyes as he quickly moved towards her; she allowed him to draw her into his arms, let him smooth back the thin silver strands of hair she laid her head down on his shoulder.

"…a child," she said simply, closing her eyes.

He nodded, squeezing her tightly as she continued shivering in his arms. "Yeah…a child," he repeated, his lips brushing lightly over her forehead.

"_Our_ child."

To be continued…

End notes: Oh man…I had a really hard time writing that. I've been taking college placements tests, and I'm swamped with studying…whenever I try to write, I always hear a little voice saying "You should be studying!" and then I feel bad. But I hope this short chapter was satisfactory…I was gonna write a few more chapters until the birth, but I think it may occur in the next chapter or the one after…and don't worry…the baby is going to be…something unique. That much I will say. But please review, even if there isn't too much to review on, hehe. It really boosts my mood to hear it, especially with all this school stuff I have to deal with!

Kuroi Neko-kun: Teehee! Well, the picking may be over, but the wondering part is still to come!

Virtue: Yup:sings: _updating can be hard to doooooo…..!_

Pipp-ORK: Well, Sierra reacted…now…how exactly is she going to adjust?

Aoi-butterfly: At this point, I can't really gurantee everything will be fine for them…because you know how these two are…

Thundersenshi: Well, here's the next chappie…working on the next one soon…

Greatlight432: Lots of friends gotten pregnant? You must be quite an aunt then!

Next chapter: Sierra is dazed and kind of reluctant to admit she is carrying a child. Nash, anxious and worried that something will go wrong with the delivery, decides to make a few arrangements…Stay tuned!


	7. Rationale

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Rebirth

Chapter 7: Rationale

by ArchFaith

**_Ah, Nash. She still cannot see._**

The boy's azure eyes slowly blinked open as he brushed an annoying piece of blonde hair out of his face. The voice had spoken to him again; it had been telling him something vague, some strange sentiment about allowing Sierra to 'see'. And to see…what did that mean…? And was it really the child who was speaking to him, or some other superior force?

Yawning, he turned over to throw the hot cotton sheets off his half-naked body. He blinked sleepily, observing the rising sun out of the corners of the small, scratched-in window. Morning already…it had seemed like only a few seconds ago that he had told Sierra of their strange predicament when in fact, hours and hours had passed since.

Somehow she had seemed less inhibited the night before, after she was able to come to terms with the fact that she was carrying their child. It had been more of a shock for her than for him, to be sure…he was a spy, after all, and gathering subtle information was one of his greatest strengths. Still…the fact that he was now going to be father to a child was quite jolting for him. But what of the eight hundred year old vampire who was to become its mother…? Even more so for her, he could imagine…

They had had a long conversation that night; definitely longer than any they had ever had before. After both of them had calmed down, had released themselves from their heated states of mind, they had talked. Many things had crossed their minds; first it had been more argument about this mysterious child, about if the pregnancy was a good thing or bad—they still had not settled that argument. She had been more inhibited than he about that discussion; for she was the one that had to shoulder the burden of delivering it. Still…the shell that had seemingly developed around her was beginning to break. He could feel it; from the stifled emotion in her voice to her sleepy indifference as she allowed him to crawl in next to her the night before.

Just a long talk between friends.

_More than friends._

Still half-asleep, he rolled over, expecting to find Sierra's icy silver hair between his roving fingers; but instead, all he was met with was a handful of air. He opened his eyes to glance over at the other side of the bed; nothing. Looking up, he saw the ruby-eyed girl standing near the window, leaning up against the pane with a deep, searching look on her face. She hadn't been there minutes before, though…but he quickly realized that he had been not looking hard enough. She had been standing by the window for quite a long time; silent and unmoving, she had blended in with the shadows when he first turned his sleepy gaze to the rising sun.

It was only when he sat up to give her a questioning glance that she spoke. "I must attempt to find out exactly what this being inside me is," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the empty streets, visible through the white curtains her fingers gingerly pushed aside. "I have read all the legends and stories…historical documents…even fairy tales. But perhaps there is something I have overlooked. Maybe there is an explanation as to why all this is happening."

He cocked his head. "Where could you find the answer?"

She shook her head as she turned her weary face to his. "I do not know. Is there not a…knowledge repository of sorts around here? Even though it is a desolate wasteland, there must be some learned people in these parts…"

"Library, you mean?" he asked, almost chuckling at her very formal use of words. "I think there is one, old girl. We can go, if you want."

"Yes," she replied. "That would be ideal…what a course of action, looking in a book to see what the cause of this entire ordeal might be. But then…what else can I do?" She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "This is going to be interesting, boy."

Despite the almost gloomy atmosphere that penetrated through the air, he managed a small grin. "Our lives have already been anything but normal." He rapidly swung his legs down over the bed and quickly stood up, stretching the taut muscles of his chest in the growing sunlight. "There's a small library up at the magic tutor's shop, I think…he might have some books that we could find some info in. We'll go as soon as we're ready."

She cursed her lips and scowled. "You are forgetting something."

"Yeah? What?"

She reached down and grasped the ends of the large white shirt that almost hung off her body. "I need adequate clothing, you moron."

"Oh," he answered simply, frowning. "Alright then…I'll go out and buy you some clothes. The market should be opening soon."

Satisfied, she crossed the room, bare feet padding against the cool stone floor. Her old, tattered clothes still lay on the nightstand near the bed; she quickly went to the pile and searched through the dusty blue skirt, quickly locating a small pouch that was tucked inside a side pocket. "Here…I earned some potch on the road while battling those monsters. Take it," she said, holding up the pouch in one slender hand.

He shook his head swiftly. "Save it, old girl. I've got money…you don't need to worry about that."

She frowned, a sour but surprised look forming on her face. "You should not be such a gentleman," she said, her eyes narrowing as she set the small parcel down on the nightstand. "You live on limited means as it is."

He smiled in amusement. "Well, you can worry about paying me back later." Before she could protest he reached out and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Hehe," he chuckled. "Thought I might slip one in."

His reward was a sharp slap on the cheek. Wincing, he brought his hand up to the red mark as she placed her hands on her hips. "When _I allow you _to kiss me, you may do so," she said callously. "But there are times when this sort of behavior is highly inappropriate!"

"Well, that sure is a way to talk to the father of your child, you ugly hag!"

"Hmm, how can you be so sure you are its father? I might have had many lovers after you that I did not care to tell you about…"

"Oh, who would want to have sex with a freakish old brat like you?"

"You, apparently!"

"Hey, it was all I could get," he laughed, grasping her shoulders with both hands. "Listen, I'm gonna get going. We'll go take a look at the magic shop when I come back from the market, alright?"

Scowling, she roughly shoved his hands away from her. "Fine! It is the least you can do for me, you idiotic bastard! A child like you should hardly be thinking of fathering a child…"

He smiled as he located his shirt and slipped it over his head. "And neither should a woman old enough to be my great-grandmother."

The red mark she left on his cheek persisted for the remainder of the morning.

(-)

Early morning gradually faded into a bright, sunny day in the desert city. The palm trees swayed under the hot, heavy breeze, and the faint smell of rue and cinnamon drifted up out of the spice shops and into the already shimmering air. The people of Caleria had emerged from their abodes; strong, hardened merchants with their arguing, weary wives; young, shy maidens with their bright veils flirting with the smiling men; children playing and fighting with their games, causing their parents much grief as they ran in circles around the talking adults.

The door of the small house in the plaza opened, and the silver-haired vampire emerged. Taking a cautious look around, she slowly stepped out of the doorway and onto the cobbled stone street. A flowing light blue dress now graced her slender form; it reached down to her knees and ran in soft pleats, much like her previous ensemble. The straps of the dress tied around her pale neck, and it was belted with a gold cincher at the waist.

She looked herself over, patting her silver hair against her head. _Perhaps the boy does have some aesthetic sense in him after all._

Nash appeared after her, in his now-characteristic brown pants and white tunic. "Ready, old girl?" he asked, giving her a gentle smile.

She looked back to him with an annoyed face. "The sooner this is over the better…honestly, I do not even know why I suggested that we go see this rune shop. It probably has only the barest of materials, and quite possibly not even any books on vampires…"

"Well, it's better than sitting around all day, isn't it?" he asked, trying his best to sound cheerful. She seemed so gloomy, so resigned; even though the thought of a child was still rather shocking to their ears, it would be good for her to come to terms with it; he had already attempted to do it, and even though it was a hard task, he had partially conquered the dull shock registering in his system every time he thought about it.

She shrugged. "I suppose." Several of the neighborhood children had stopped their games and were now huddled in a corner by the stone wall, eying the mysterious pale woman who had suddenly appeared in their midst. Noting them, she scowled. It was enough that she was looked upon as a rarity in nearly every village she happened upon—for who, in all the world, had ever seen such a beautiful creature with such white skin and silver hair?—but now, added to the frustrations of dealing with this strange pregnancy, the stares of the curious children was too much for her to handle.

She sighed and turned to her companion. "Let's hurry," she suggested. "These children are being very rude."

He turned his eyes to the small group in the corner and cocked his head. "Aw, they're just kids, Sierra. They probably think you're Harmonian or something…every new person that comes here gets the treatment. I did."

"Well, at least you look more human than I do," she answered.

He scratched his head and gave her a quizzical look. Without another word exchanged between them they slowly started walking in the direction of the market place, side by side; from the eyes of discerning passerby, it seemed that were neither walking together nor walking apart.

At length he decided to speak. "Let me hold your hand, old girl."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Whatever for?"

He shrugged. "Because…well, I actually have no idea. I just want to."

She crossed her arms over her chest as they continued on. "Every request has its own twisted logic, boy. If you are thinking of becoming an old, hopeless romantic idiot with me all of a sudden, then forget it. I am quite over these overly emotional feelings."

He frowned and placed his arms over his head, stretching in an almost catlike manner. "Don't overanalyze all of a sudden, now!" he said, with a playful air. "I just wanted to hold your hand. That's all."

The grimace disappeared from her face; unknowingly disarmed, she resumed looking straight ahead. He had his own charm; of course he had to, being a spy and a mercenary. To complete missions, one needed finesse. The ability to lie, seduce, and cheat in order to obtain information. But this charm was quite different; it was very simple and honest, and carried an unassuming air about it.

_You are still just the same old Nash._

He brought his hands back to his sides, and they walked on in silence. The market was coming into view now; the wooden stalls stocked with piles of linens, baskets of fresh fruit, and novel items from all over the world packed into small parcels tied with string. The venders were flocking about, clapping their hands and advertising their wares. The blonde boy placed a tanned hand on his companion's shoulder and nodded towards a small, white-washed building standing slightly behind the market, the white paint peeling off the walls in small gashes.

"There's the rune shop," he said, matter-of-factly. "We'll just go in and pretend to buy something."

She nodded. "Alright." With a hint of optimism, she added, "Perhaps they might have something after all."

They crossed the large courtyard and slowly approached the small shop, completely white except for a large sign that read, in large Calerian letters, "RUNES". Sierra unceremoniously flung the door open, leaving Nash to shut it behind them as they entered the small space.

(-)

"Please wait just a minute. I'll be there soon," a deep, female voice called as soon as the door opened.

The shop was unremarkable; the traditional fabric canopy hung in elaborate folds above the counter, and a crystal ball was set firmly in place upon a small, golden pedestal. The shelves placed up against the wall were full of old, dusty books, many of them gathering dust and cobwebs. A few chairs were stacked in a corner of the room. Behind the old counter a showy red curtain was hung from the doorway; presumably the rune mage was busy inside.

The companions barely had a chance to glance around when the red curtain was pushed aside by a slender arm. The rune mage appeared in the doorway, taking short, graceful strides as she entered the room. She was amazingly beautiful, with bright cerulean eyes and long, silvery locks tied in a tight ponytail; she was clad entirely in black, with a low-cut dress and long black gloves.

The habitual pang of recognition suddenly settled in Sierra's stomach as she opened her mouth to greet the familiar face.

"Jeane!"

The mage smiled wickedly, placing a hand on her hip as she brought another hand to her cheek in mock surprise. "Well. Long time no see, Sierra, Nash."

To be continued…

Note: Well, that was a lot easier to write than Chapter 6! An author can only take so much drama, you know…the best Nash/Sierra element for me to write in is when they're arguing, because it's so fun to write exchanges between them! Anyways, yes…here we have another familiar face showing up, the mysterious Jeane. What's she up to this time? You'll have to wait and see…please review and tell me what you thought! I always love hearing it!

Kuroi Neko-kun: Teehee. Don't worry…the end is faaaaar away. Won't be here for some time!

Virtue: Glad you liked the last chapter! I thought it was rough around the edges, but I guess it really was alright…

thundersenshi: I want to glomp Nash too! He is a darling, isn't he!

Krile: Krile, thanks so much for all your advice! Reading your review really helped me calm down a bit about writing my beloved fic, and it really pumped me up and helped me write this next chapter too! Thanks for all your support! 

GreatLight432: Whoops…sorry about that! 'Uncle' it is…anyways, the child will be…different. Wait and see!

Next chapter: Jeane knows a lot about runes, right? She's been around forever…so goes Sierra's reasoning. Time for them to sit down and have a nice long talk. Stay tuned!


	8. Proposition

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Author's note: I'm dissatisfied with the way the first draft of Chapter 8 came out…so here's a new version, in all its glory. Hope it turned out good!

Rebirth

Chapter 8: Proposition

by ArchFaith

The tall, silver-haired mage brought a demure, black gloved hand to her cheek, smiling in obvious amusement as she quickly advanced from behind the counter, the heels of her high boots clicking against the cold stone floor as she came to stand in front of them, taller than Sierra but not quite as tall as Nash.

A flurry of memories surged through Sierra's mind as she immediately went to the tall woman and flung her arms around her, in a rather uncharacteristic show of emotion. "Jeane!" she exclaimed, hugging her old friend tightly as she buried her face into the mage's shoulder. "I cannot believe it…"

Jeane smiled, giving Nash a seductive wink before she turned her eyes downward to meet the vampire's questioning gaze. "Well, believe it, my dear," she whispered elegantly, her voice warm and calming as she gently brought her hands up to Sierra's slender back. "Ah…it's been a long time, Sierra."

Sierra pulled back, lightly grasping Jeane's shoulders with her pale hands as she peered into the mage's deep, aquamarine eyes. "What are you doing here? My goodness, Jeane…it has been almost a year since I last saw you."

Jeane giggled, a rather inappropriate gesture in most cases; but with Jeane, one simply had to forgive her peculiarities. She was just too enchanting, too charming to correct. "Not since the one hundred eight stars disbanded after the war…how could you just take off like that? I was hoping you'd take me up on my offer!" Smiling, she turned towards Nash, who had been standing there in an awkward silence, his hands tucked into his pockets as he watched their surprising reunion. "Well, who do we have here? Nash Latkje, hmm? Well, well…I'm shocked, Sierra, that you'd ever consider having a boyfriend so much younger than you!"

Nash smirked as Jeane's familiar laugh seemed to bounce off the walls and become a part of the hot, swirling atmosphere in the small, crowded shop. He remembered this strange, powerful woman from his excursion in Greenhill, almost a year and a half ago; to aid the distressed residents of the plagued city, Jeane had helped him to organize a magic barrier around the area when his own skills could not produce one; luckily, the tactic had worked, and the city had been saved. But afterwards, she had mysteriously disappeared; gone without a trace, vanished in the blink of an eye—the mysterious silver-haired beauty who never divulged any knowledge about herself to anyone. Yes…mysterious, seductive, and charming. Purely Jeane.

He scratched the back of his head, giving Jeane a wide grin. "Good to see you again, Jeane," he greeted.

"Teehee," Jeane responded, releasing her light grip on Sierra. She slowly crossed the room to give Nash a light hug. "There's the young man I helped out in Greenhill! You had a lot of promise back there, Nash…I hope you used it to your full potential."

Nash smiled crookedly as he eyed Sierra's interested glance. "No need to worry about that, Jeane. Everything's been going pretty well, actually."

"Really? Hmm…" Jeane mumbled, turning back to look at Sierra, who had crossed her arms over her chest. "I could have sworn I sensed some kind of trouble going on as soon as I entered the room…is anything wrong, Sierra? You seem a bit…nervous."

Sierra smiled politely and shook her head. "Oh, it's nothing, Jeane…" she began, but stopped herself as she considered the situation. They had come to the rune shop seeking information from a book; instead, in place of that alternative, they had come across perhaps one of the most knowledgeable rune mages in the world, well-versed in the arts of magic and legends. And above her, her old friend. Maybe…perhaps it would be alright to…

"Actually," she began anew, "there is a small problem, Jeane. I am glad I found you here."

Jeane cocked her head in curiosity. "Well, it must be serious if you needed me to sort it out," she replied, the half-humorous undertone in her voice apparent as she placed a hand on Sierra's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Sierra's ruby eyes glinted in the strong sunlight as she glanced at the blonde-haired swordsman, who was standing there simply observing their conversation in silence. One look into his azure eyes and she received a strong response; a simple, stubborn little response that whispered _I'm staying_. She quickly shook her head, wishing to indicate that this was a matter she would need to talk about alone; Nash knew Jeane, and they had worked together once, but he still did not know everything about her. No one knew everything about her, for that matter; but out of all the people alive in the world, Sierra knew the most.

"Jeane…" she began, looking into her friend's eyes. The tall mage's visage was fixed with support and understanding, and these emotions were indeed welcome. But there were things they would talk about that the boy would not understand…

"Nash," she said, turning now to her companion. "I…it might be best if I spoke with Jeane alone. I find my conversation is a great deal more amiable when you are not around."

The swordsman knitted his eyebrows, crossing his hands over his chest as he cocked his head. There was something Sierra was hiding from him, something she was not going to divulge for a great deal of time; the secretive undertones in her voice had given her away, and her weak explanation only contributed to his theory. It certainly wasn't fair; the entire situation was his as well as Sierra's, and if Sierra should desire that Jeane know of it, he wanted to speak with her as well. He could see why Sierra was so eager to speak with the mage—she was almost a legend, after all—but he could not see why she was being so cold to him about it.

"Is that such a good idea?" he countered. "This whole thing is as important to me as it is to you…"

The vampire sighed, a gesture more of resignation than of annoyance. She knew he would insist on staying with her; but for now, his gentle prodding would not be allowed to penetrate her will. "Come now, boy," she said, talking as she would to a child. "These are matters you would not understand."

_These are matters you would not understand._

The next thing he knew he was standing outside the small shop, his feet digging into the dusty ground as his mind flared in anger. How dare she say such a thing to him at a time like this! It was as if he were the disobedient little boy, and she the mature lady who came to reprimand him. Of course the disparity in their ages had to be accounted for, and of course her experience in the world greatly exceeded his; but, for a brief moment in time, he had thought they might have been on the same page as the other, understanding and forgiving. And yet…and yet…

_Who am I kidding? _he asked himself as he looked up at the sunny sky, shielding his eyes from the scorching star. _I'm just here to play babysitter, that's all. The only reason she came back was because she was sick; and the only reason she's staying is because she doesn't have a clue about what to do herself._

A flutter of wings sounded over his shoulder; in a moment the faithful Dominguez was perched next to his cheek, his sharp claws digging into the soft skin. "I thought I might find you near the market, Master," he greeted cordially. "Have you come to buy supplies?"

Nash sighed, giving the shop one last look as he slowly began to walk away. "Yeah," he said blankly as he slowly brought his azure eyes to the dusty ground. "Supplies."

(-)

Her ruby eyes were still upon the door, which had shook with the strength Nash had utilized to almost pry it off its hinges. A twist of regret suddenly welled up within her; she had been harsh to him, true. Insulting. He was right; it was his situation as well as hers, and she had no business to tell him otherwise. But the words had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them; and she hadn't meant to offend him so. She never did…

Her hands had wandered absently to her stomach as Jeane quickly approached her, troubled eyes studying the vampire's solemn face. "Sierra," she began, frowning. "This is a serious thing, isn't it?"

Sierra quickly nodded. "Yes….very serious," she replied simply, looking into the mage's face. "I am eternally glad I found you, Jeane…you are perhaps the best person I can think of to talk to concerning this."

Jeane knitted her eyebrows, an expression of worry rare on her generally cheerful face. "Come inside, Sierra," she whispered, placing her hands on her friend's shoulders, gently guiding her around the wooden counter. "Let's have something to drink."

The back of the shop was rustic, to say the least. The same stone architecture seen in Nash's house prevailed here as well, though the grey stones were worn and chipped, and grime had slipped into the cracks between the pieces. Various boxes and crates were piled up in corners of the room; glancing inside, one could see small runes wrapped in soft fabric, along with various spell books and crystal balls. A worn red rug decorated the bare stone floor, and dirty pink curtains were tied back against the greased windows. The only sign of the elegance of its new owner were an obviously-expensive looking tea table covered by a silky blue tablecloth. Two cushion-seated chairs were set by it, and a steaming china teapot sat roundly upon its surface, surrounded by two empty cups and saucers. In the corner by the window hung an elegant pair of wind chimes, gently rustling as the wind from the open window brushed past.

Smiling apologetically, Jeane advanced to the table and swiftly pulled out a chair. "Sorry I haven't had time to clean up," she said. "The place was a pigsty when I found it."

Sierra smiled comfortably, and took the seat offered her. "It is quite alright. One cannot be expected to have everything perfect all the time."

"Teehee," Jeane giggled as she took the chair opposite Sierra. "I guess you're right. Still…when I finally get something done to this place..." She sighed rapturously and turned her bright eyes to Sierra. "Ah, my throat is parched! Let's have some tea. One lump or two?"

Sierra tapped her finger indicatively on the rim of the teacup. "You know I do not eat or drink, Jeane."

"I know," the mage responded, gracefully grasping the teacup with an outstretched finger. The vampire suddenly found herself focusing on the tall woman's long eyelashes as her eyes bent downward to pour the tea into the cup. "But it would be polite to not to ask…"

_It was so easy to become lost in her eyes…_

"…so let's just pretend. What do you think?" Jeane continued, playfully rolling a small square of sugar between her fingers.

Sierra sighed and propped her tilted head up with her pale arm. "Whatever you say, my dear."

The silver-haired mage elegantly raised the full teacup to her mouth, taking a cautious sip as her blue eyes flickered downward.

"Now," Jeane continued, setting the cup down on the saucer. "Let's talk about things, my fair Sierra. First, where do I begin? Hmmm," she whispered, putting her hand to her chin. "How about…where have you been all these months!" Her voice had now become an excited yell, and her ever-ready smile beamed forth as she leaned forward over the table. "You must tell me…it's bound to be fun."

Sierra smiled, her half-closed eyes taking in the sight of the slender mage leaning forward, eagerly awaiting an answer. She almost seemed to forget her present troubles as she looked into those bright, encouraging eyes…the gentle arch of her face when she smiled…

"I…I have done many things," she began, setting her arms down upon the table. "Though," she added, "I cannot say that these experiences were a good thing for me to have had."

Jeane cocked her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the vampire continued, casting her eyes to the patterns on the tablecloth, "that…ah, where shall I begin?"

"Well, first of all, tell me where you went after you so ungraciously left me hanging and rushed off!" Jeane answered. She shifted in her chair, crossing her legs. The slit of the sleek dress reached almost to her waist, and made for a quite distracting image to the usually focused vampire.

_Her hair is in her eyes again. Like always._

"Oh…that. Well…gods, I am almost ashamed to admit where I went. But…the truth is, I came here. To Caleria."

"Why? What's here for you?"

"Ah," Sierra sighed, her mind retrogressing to the surprised look on Nash's face when he had opened the door to his little shack to see her standing there—the silvery beauty, embarrassed, annoyed, and indescribably happy to see him. Quickly shaking the memory from her mind, she continued. "Jeane…you are well aware of the fact that I knew Nash Latjke from before, correct?"

The mage nodded. "The mission with Rean, right?"

"Exactly. And…I have told you my true feelings for him, yes?"

Jeane giggled, picking up the teacup with a graceful gesture. "Which feelings? How you hate him and think he's an idiot…or the way you feel when you look into his eyes?"

"Jeane," the vampire replied warningly, immediately realizing that threatening glances had never worked on the legendary mage before; and most likely, they never would.

"Oh come on, Sierra! You love the boy…and that's why you came here, right? To see him?"

Sierra sighed, suddenly wondering if her decision to speak with Jeane alone was indeed a mistake. "Shall I answer that question, or continue informing you of my present situation?"

"Continue, by all means. This had better be an interesting story."

(-)

"My. That certainly was interesting."

Sierra sighed, catching her breath as she laid her right hand down on the table, patiently tapping the silky tablecloth with a pale finger. "Yes…quite extraordinary, actually."

Jeane raised her half-empty teacup to her smooth lips, sipping the dark tea with a rare elegance the vampire had not seen in ages. "So…do you think what that doctor said was true, then?"

"I do not know," Sierra answered, leaning back in her chair. "On one hand, it is an impossible occurrence…and on the other, what else can it be?" Suddenly remembering the specifics of her and Nash's excursion to the rune shop, she suddenly leaned forward, focusing her ruby stare into Jeane's understanding eyes. "That is why we came to you today, Jeane. I had thought that if we went to the local rune shop they might have some material on the subject, but…it seems I have found something even better than a book."

Jeane set her teacup down with a quiet _clink. _"Oh Sierra," she chided, smiling gently. "Don't say that! I'm little more than a simple rune mage, scraping out a living with her modest trade…"

"But you _can _tell me something, can you not? Concerning this child, or whatever it may be…this…this _thing._"

Jeane frowned as she absently began to trace the rim of the saucer with a gloved finger. "First and foremost, my fair Sierra…it is a child, not a thing. You shouldn't refer to it like that."

"Ah, what difference does it make?" Sierra answered, immediately regretting the words as they tumbled out of her mouth. Taking a moment to calm herself, she continued in a low voice. "But is there not something you can tell me about it, Jeane? Anything? In all the years you have lived upon this world, have you not seen a case such as this?"

Jeane apologetically shook her head. "I can tell you right now that this is new to me, my dear."

The silvery-haired vampire bowed her head in frustration. "Gods…what can be done?" she muttered. The momentary ray of hope that had descended on her as soon as she saw Jeane's familiar figure had now been erased; even the one person whom she thought might have any clue as to what was happening to her knew nothing. The entire ordeal was misery and regret and questioning, and the mental strain was beginning to wear her tired mind thin.

Immediately sensing her friend's consternation, Jeane stretched a hand across the table, resting it soothingly on Sierra's pale fingers. "Don't give up, Sierra. Everything will be fine. I know it."

The vampire sighed, gratefully grasping Jeane's gloved hand in hers. "It is hard to believe that it will."

"Sierra," Jeane continued, giving her friend's hand a gentle squeeze. "Everything could be right, you know. There's a way to solve any problem."

"Then give me an answer, _Jeane_," Sierra replied, the biting sarcasm apparent in her voice. "Tell me what to do."

The mage's eyes quickly danced over the vampire's silent form, as though calculating in her head the solution. Beneath that elegant exterior, deep inside her mysterious soul lived a cunning strategist; but, her former battlefield compatriots, her tactics were of a decidedly different nature. Though it was true she was genuinely worried about Sierra's condition—a pregnant vampire, for goodness' sake!—the mage did indeed possess the wisdom of the serpent. A chance opportunity to rekindle an old companionship, placed straight in the middle of a troubling pregnancy. A coincidence like that would not show itself again. The mage knew, deep within her soul, that she had to act quickly; dawdling and beating around the bush would only deepen the vampire's affections for the boy. And she did so desire to have a companion once again…

"Sierra…you can leave this place," she whispered, her supple lips rolling each word between her tongue.

"Hmm?" the vampire answered, surprised at the brevity of her answer. "What did you say?"

Jeane again smiled, her seductive lips arching in a thin curve. "It's simple, my dear. It's clear you hate this place, and it's clear that although you may care for the boy, he is no knight in shining armor. You seem to be stuck between staying here and living with a mere child young enough to be your great-grandchild…or leaving him and possibly giving birth to something hideous."

Sierra cocked her head in a slight confusion. "You use very interesting terms, my dear. Yes, essentially that is true. But what are you getting at?"

Jeane slowly withdrew her hand from Sierra's grasping fingers, and gently rose from her seat. Following the vampire's curious stare, the mage seductively advanced to the other end of the table, stopping until she was standing in front of Sierra, a hand planted on her curvy hips.

"Sierra…you do remember the offer I gave you before you left…don't you?"

The vampire sullenly lowered her eyes. "How could I forget…?"

Jeane slowly leaned over, a gloved hand reaching out to the vampire's chin, raising her pale face up to meet her bright eyes. "Sierra…I missed you, you know. I really did. But I comforted myself with the fact that you had probably gone back to Nash Latkje—that you would be happy with him, and that everything would work out for you in the end." She blinked slowly. "But it looks like the opposite is true."

Sierra found herself staring straight into the mage's clear blue gaze, immediately drawn to the attractive contours of her slender face and neck. Resisting the urge to suddenly reach out and pull her closer, she merely turned her face away from Jeane's insistent glances. "We make our own futures, Jeane," she whispered, a hint of anxiety present in her voice. "This is mine, however bleak and miserable it may be."

"So you made your own future like this, did you?" Jeane asked, her pleasant smile still visible as her eyes narrowed. "This is what you wanted?"

"Jeane," Sierra protested, weakly attempting to rise from the table. She succeeded in standing up, but the mage quickly grasped both her shoulders with her hands; and though the vampire possessed superior physical strength than five men combined, she found herself pulled towards the irresistible aura that seemed to emanate from Jeane's voluptuous form.

"Sierra…remember when the one hundred eight stars were gathered?" Jeane asked, her voice barely a whisper as a small droplet of sweat trickled down Sierra's nervous face. "You and I were quite smitten then, weren't we? Of course no one knew about it…but you have admit that we were, don't you?"

"This is no time for your games," Sierra answered, as Jeane inched closer towards her face. "That was a long time ago, you know…it was just something to 'tide me over', as you would say." Her mouth opened in silent defeat as Jeane's gentle grin seemed to penetrate her soul. "You and I agreed to forget it when we ended that affair."

"Sierra, Sierra, Sierra," Jeane chided, placing her right hand against the vampire's slender neck. "People agree upon many things…and yet, when both parties are willing to break the pact…isn't it wise to honor the agreement?"

This time Sierra's will prevailed; she quickly pushed Jeane's welcoming arms away, immediately placing her arms over her chest as if in protection against an oncoming mental barrage. "I should leave," she gasped, smoothing her silvery hair against her forehead. "It has been a while now…Nash will be waiting for me."

"Sierra!" Jeane scolded, bringing both hands to her hips in open frustration. "Why must you go back to him? Don't you know what you and I could do together, if you came with me? What does that little boy have to offer you besides those damn eyes of his!" The smile was back on her face now, but it had become contorted into a wicked grin; a confident, challenging gesture that caused Sierra's ruby eyes to widen in anxiety.

"I loved you, Sierra. I loved you…and then you left me." Her smile grew even wider. "For him. But it can't be just a coincidence, my dear, that you found me again. If you could just say the word, we can both leave this place at once! And we'll find a way to take care of that child inside, no worries about that. Leave the boy to find his own destiny…he could marry, have a family, live a normal live. But we two are different; we have greater things in our future."

"Stop!" the vampire suddenly screamed, the enchanting spell broken as the previously nervous ruby stare had suddenly turned into a determined scowl. "That is enough, Jeane…I have heard enough. You certainly are seductive, but eight hundred years on this world has taught me that a pretty face is not always enough." She rapidly turned, marching across the room to brush the heavy red curtain out of the way. Taking one last glance back at her friend, she sighed.

"We did have fun, Jeane. But..." her voice trailed, then came back stronger than before. "That was all it was…just fun. Besides," she added, turning around, "he is no longer just a boy."

In a moment she had swept out of the shop, slamming the door behind her with such force that the screws were torn from their moorings; the door shook and gently collapsed against the frame, leaving a few curious passerby to gawk at the enormous feat.

Jeane blinked, looking down at the teacup which Sierra had inadvertently smashed onto the floor. With a sigh, she gracefully bent down to pick up the broken ceramic pieces, turning a large piece over her hand, examining its forever altered state.

"Well," she whispered, to no one in particular. "My plan didn't work after all…odd. Quite odd."

(-)

"Nash!"

The blonde swordsman turned at the sound of his name, called so urgently across the plaza as he saw the silver-haired maiden emerge from the rune shop, her hands folded over her chest as she swiftly walked towards the small armor stall where he had been examining the latest chain mail from Harmonia.

He quickly handed the vender the right amount of potch, and, shouldering the new armor, walked with a slight reluctance towards the vampire.

They met in the center of the sandy plaza, her ruby eyes rising to meet his. "So what did she tell you?" he asked dryly, still smarting over her latest insult. Normally he would have forgiven her many faults, her insolent errors; but to deny him the right to listen and see if there was anything to be done about the child was too much. The humor in him had temporarily retreated, and he was now left with a confused mess of passionate outrage.

Sierra shook her head, her wispy hair tousled by the warm breeze. "She could tell me nothing," she answered truthfully. With a sigh she looked away from him, turned her girlish gaze beyond his eyes and towards the fading sun, a burning ball of redness against the darkening sky. "It would have better if I had not talked to her."

He knitted his brows. "Why? Did something go wrong?"

She lowered her eyes to the dusty ground now, playfully tapping her foot against the dusty ground. "Pleasure is hard to forget, Nash," she answered, folding her arms in front of her. "It is hard to separate reason and desire."

The cryptic speech did nothing but confuse her companion. She seemed distracted, almost; as if she would rather not think about what transpired—whatever had occurred—with Jeane. He stepped closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"

To his surprise, she did not brush his hand away. "An unfortunate occurrence," she answered with another sigh. "But come…it is growing late. I will tell when we arrive back at the dwelling."

"Will you tell me everything?"

His question immediately caught her off guard; she looked to him with a look of surprise that quickly faded into neutrality. "Well, as you said before…this little one inside me is yours as well as mine. So we share some common bond, do we not?"

_Little one? _Her uncharacteristic response almost stunned him; catching himself, the questioning glance was replaced with a gentle smile. "I guess," he answered. "Glad you're finally coming around, old girl."

"Mmmm," she mumbled, sensing that his teasing nature had returned. "Do not think my attentions will turn to tenderness from now on."

"I won't," he promised. "Let's hurry back though…I sent Dominguez ahead with the small stuff, but this chain mail is pretty heavy."

She smirked. "I would assist you, but I do see that you need to lose some weight. It would be good for you to do some exercise."

"Hey!" he replied, shouldering the burdensome package. "That's pretty mean of you."

She laughed wickedly. "Hahaha….hurry up! Perhaps I will try some of your hideous cooking tonight."

"Hideous! Let's not forget the time you tried cooking something for me when I got sick with Chishan flu that one time…"

"Oh, stop it…!"

The curtains in the window of the rune shop faintly rustled as the two argued, slowly walking away from the plaza, their dusty footprints fading out of sight.

To be continued…

Note: Whew…that was a really long chapter! You see, I actually had trouble writing this…when I introduced Jeane in the seventh chapter, I thought I would have her act as a kind of "advice giver"…that she would essentially comfort Sierra and give her some information about the "child". But then I got this idea…Jeane and Sierra probably would have been friends during Suikoden II…but what if they were something more? (Of course Sierra had her eyes on Klaus, but that didn't turn out very well, did it?) Anyways, I had to switched Jeane's role from a supporting friend to a possibly destructive presence…there was always the option of throwing the romantic plot out, but it was just too much fun to keep in! Besides, Sierra and Jeane always seemed like they might lean both ways…I don't know why, they just do.

Kuroi Neko-kun: Give birth to something human? Hmm…perhaps…but perhaps not…

Dark Shadow: Thanks! I always try my hardest…

Virtue: Sure, the kid seems crazy…but is it really?

Cat, Avatar for the DCG: Hehe, triple reviews! Glad it turned out better than you expected!

thundersenshi: Yup, my first time writing about Jeane. Hope I didn't mess her up though…

Oh, and please review! I really enjoy reading everyone's comments, they always make my day!

Next chapter: Sierra still isn't too sure of what she wants…but when the time comes for her to decide, will she take the easy way out…or the hard way? Stay tuned!


	9. Keepsake

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Author's note: Well, here's the ninth chapter…I have absolutely no idea what to do with this, so I'm hoping this first draft will turn out OK.

**BY THE WAY: **So everyone won't be confused, **this next chapter takes place a few weeks after Sierra's talk with Jeane…**it's mentioned within the chapter, but when I reread I thought it might be a little hard to pick out.

Rebirth

Chapter 9: Keepsake

by ArchFaith

Things could almost be considered normal now.

_Except for…_His mind trailed as he opened his sluggish azure eyes to the scorching desert morning.

How he had survived the Calerian seasons were a mystery to him; to go from the warm, temperate climate of his beloved Crystal Valley to this dry, melting heat was quite a change; and even though he been living in Caleria for quite some time, the change from the dry, arid spring to the humid, boiling summer never failed to induce in him a deep, desperate restlessness for home.

Turning to his right, he swiftly observed the silver-haired vampire next to him, still fitfully sleeping. Sometimes, on days like this, she would sleep all day and only rise at night, when she knew the temperatures would be slightly lower than the day. Or else she would go without sleep for days on end, reading obscure magic books or merely taking strolls around the city, all done without an uttering of a syllable.

She was hard to understand, true—but he understood her. To understand meant to bid her goodbye when she disappeared for a few hours, to take her out with him whenever they went shopping, to force her to eat some kind of human food when she adamantly refused, to kiss her closed eyelids before they made love.

He understood.

And in return, she told him everything—childhood stories, episodes from her time with the one hundred and eight stars, even the scintillating conversation with Jeane which had occurred a few weeks back.

_Heh, you're lucky, old girl…I wish I could have kissed those lips just once._

_Heh…a mouth is just what it sounds like…a mouth._

The child had temporarily been forgotten; other than their few veiled allusions to it, things were just as they were when Sierra had been living with him six months ago—argumentative, frustrating, and full of distraction. It was as if she were not pregnant at all, in fact; her body still retained its slender shape, and the pains she had been experiencing within her stomach had greatly abated, so much to the point that she no longer complained at all. _Perhaps this whole thing is a freak of nature; maybe there really is no child_, he often thought. But no; he quickly corrected himself. The voice. That small, innocent little voice…it was unwise on both their parts, to keep this little dilemma of theirs quiet for so long. They had never seriously talked of it since Sierra's discussion with Jeane…looking back on it, he was sure it had been the wrong decision.

His thoughts were suddenly cut short as a cat-like yawn sounded in his ear. Turning over, he caught a gleam of her sharp eyeteeth as she opened her ruby eyes to his, her pale face neutral as she twisted to face him. She looked small and slender, curled up in one of his old shirts, the cuffs barely reaching over her white wrists.

"It is very warm," she commented, her voice unusually dull sounding.

He gave her a gentle smile. "Did you forget how hot it is in Caleria during the summer?"

"No," she answered matter-of-factly. "I just wished to reiterate." She stretched her arms out towards her white legs, yawning once again as she slowly sat up, her eyes still anchored to his. "Mmmm," she mumbled, testing out her legs. "I suppose you will want me to eat some kind of breakfast, is that correct?"

"You know it," he answered, quickly rising from the bed. The loose brown pants he wore to bed clung to his thighs as he rose, stretching in the scorching sun as he took a brief look out the window. "It's a holiday today, you know."

"Oh?" she asked indifferently, looking around the room to locate the blue dress she now wore so often. "What kind of holiday is it?"

Smiling, he turned around and swiftly crossed the room, going over the small night table which stood next to the unmade bed. A small package stood upon the table, next to the oil lamp; it was a rectangular box bound in coarse brown fabric, tied with a red string. A frown was spread over her face as he quickly picked it up and turned to her with a grin.

"Here," he whispered, delivering the box into her hands.

"What is it?" she asked, as she gently shook the contents, turning the package over in her fingers. "When you brought it home last night you told me it was just another box of snake frog liver."

"And you believed me," he laughed, sitting down on the bed next to her. "C'mon, old girl, since when does snake frog liver come wrapped as nicely as that?" He playfully smoothed the blonde strands out of his eyes as he laid one hand on her arm. "Open it."

Giving him a suspicious look, the vampire slowly untied the small stringy bow, letting the red thread drop to the ground as she slowly unwrapped the box from its trappings. She unceremoniously tossed the brown fabric into Nash's lap as she observed the small paper box. "I hope this is something useful," she groaned as she took the lid off.

The lid clattered to the floor as her ruby eyes suddenly grew wide. Trembling hands rapidly reached into the box and pulled out the small, uncalled-for present.

It was a delicate little comb, carved from fine white ivory, its teeth and handle smooth to the touch. Intricate designs graced its wide handle, beautifully fashioned patterns of skill and elegance; suns, stars, and moons were traced around the edges, framed by a small vine blossoming with tiny roses. Miniscule, almost indecipherable writing was printed in a corner, curvy lines reading "Falena".

"This…" she began, her voice trailing as her traced her fingers over the elaborate carvings. "Why…it is beautiful."

"I thought you would like it," he said simply, sliding closer to her. She immediately glanced at him.

"But what is the occasion, that I should receive such a fine gift?" she questioned, looking into his eyes even as grasped the comb tightly in her hands.

He shook his head slightly in amusement. "Well, I guess even you forgot." He smiled and placed a tanned hand on her shoulder. "You told me a few weeks ago, remember?"

"What?" she answered. "What did I tell you?"

He tenderly squeezed her shoulder. "Today's your birthday, old girl."

_Birthday?_

The word resonated into her head like glass shattering onto a hard, wooden floor; small, distant memories suddenly seemed to come through to the surface as she let herself lean against him, glancing up into his calm face, then tightly shutting her eyes in remembrance.

_My birthday._

(-)

_A small, blonde girl was running energetically through a thickly wooded glen, her wispy blonde hair tied with pink ribbons, a white play dress adorning her thin, lithe body. In her arms she carried a tiny doll, wearing a red cotton dress with brown yarn for hair. The girl stopped suddenly, clutching the doll close to her as she gently swayed back and forth. _

_"Sierra!" A voice called through the pathway. "Come home! You'll miss your party!"_

_The girl was older now; instead of a little girl she was a young maiden, almost close to marriageable age. She was sitting under a tree, leafing through a new edition of a book her father had brought her all the way from one of the big trading cities where he often did business. It was a book about the legendary twenty-seven true runes…the Rune of Change, the Gate Rune, the Rune of Life and Death…_

_"Sierra…"_

_It was a horrific sight to behold; the girl's fair blonde hair had turned to ashen silver, and her normally tanned skin had become deathly white. The people…her mother, her father, her brothers and sisters…they all believed her to be a monster. Crouching in the middle of the village square, bloody tears trailing down her cheeks, she looked on in horror as the people surrounded her, pitchforks and swords in their calloused, farmers' hands. She didn't want any harm to come to them; she could not allow it! Yet the newly settled rune inside her wanted vengeance; and try as hard as she did to stifle it, it only pushed through her will, bringing hatred and destruction and despair._

_It was the day before her seventeenth birthday._

(-)

"It was my birthday," she whispered absently as she suddenly became aware of her surroundings; the strong, firm arms enfolding her, the annoying pieces of blonde hair brushing into her eyes as Nash leaned closer to her, his forehead almost touching hers.

"Snap out of it," he said, patting her arm. "C'mon, Sierra…"

She blinked up at him, frowning. "I apologize," she said as she gently pushed his arms away. She slowly sat up, placing a white hand to her face as she slowly turned to her companion. "All I have is remembrances of years past…all the birthdays I spent with my family back in the village…" her voice trailed as she shook her head in self-deprecation. She looked down at the ivory comb she still grasped between her thin fingers. "This…this is the first present I've received since…gods, I cannot remember." Lowering her eyes to the floor, she whispered a solemn "Thank you."

The boy was smiling again; he always smiled, in good times and bad. Giving her a part on the back, he whispered, "You're welcome."

Turning to him, she gently slipped the comb into his fingers. "Will you comb my hair?" she asked, her brilliant ruby eyes giving off a wondering, almost good-natured look.

"Sure," he said, taking the comb and adjusting her so that she sat in front of her, the back of her head facing his observant eyes. Slowly he ran his fingers through her slightly tangled silver locks, taking wispy pieces in his fingers as he lowered his eyes. Somehow, he knew he didn't matter whether or not he did a good job; somehow, he knew she didn't care.

As the teeth of the comb danced through her pale tresses, a surge of guilt suddenly welled up beneath her heart. This boy was sweet to her, kind to her—many things. Of course she always taunted him, ridiculed him, and teased him, but in the end…he understood. If she spoke to any other person as she did to him she would surely be loathed and disliked; but somehow, this boy had taken the sting of her words and interpreted them as good. He had allowed her to come back to him, he had allowed her to stay with him for weeks as his permanent guest; he had even argued with her about this mysterious child, this being that was growing inside that was apparently both his and hers. And still, though she had been induced to tell him many things, there was still one decision she had kept secret. But it could not be a secret any longer.

"Nash," she began, as he started work on the left side of her head, "there is something I must speak to you about."

"What is it?" he asked, letting his fingers weave their way through her soft, beautiful hair.

She took a deep breath, the feelings of shame and embarrassment once again flowing through her veins. "It…it is about the child."

He said nothing, but momentarily paused in surprise. The child had been almost unspoken of; other than their occasional discussions about whether it would be a boy or girl, and his vain attempts to make her digest human food, the child was never talked about at all. Truth be told, both of them had pushed the subject out of their minds; an extremely unwise tactic, truth be told. The error of their little lie was rapidly becoming clear to them, and regret began to flood through both their systems at once.

"Nash…we have not really discussed what will happen when this child is born…if it _is_ a child," she quickly added, drawing her breath in and out.

He suddenly didn't like where the conversation was going. Her nervous breathing, the tones of her voice—all too familiar.

"You see…I…I do not know if I am capable of being a mother," she continued, involuntarily bringing a hand over her heart. "And you are very young yet…too young to be a father, I think." She knew he was catching her drift; the comb's grip on her hair was getting lighter and lighter, and he now had one hand upon her slender shoulder.

"So…I have been thinking over the last few weeks….perhaps when this child is born, we shall determine why exactly it has come into existence." She turned around to face him. "Do you agree?"

He nodded. "Of course." But of course there was something more to her speech. "And afterwards…"

"Well…afterwards, I think it would be best if—"

She automatically gasped, placing her hands on her stomach as she cringed in absolute terror, her widened ruby eyes immediately locking to his for support.

"Ah…oh gods…not again…"

Both his hands were on her shoulders now, and in a moment she was pulled into his arms, still shaking and trembling as her insides seemed to shift like the plates of an earthquake. She felt like she was bleeding inside; bleeding, breaking, being destroyed from the inside, like an enormous fist had suddenly pummeled her, boring a hole within her pale body.

"Nash!" she exclaimed, rapidly forgetting what exactly she had wanted to relate to him. Her hands were spread over her chest, her head resting on his shoulder as he tightly squeezed her, bloody tears starting to pool at the base of her eyelids.

"This…pain, it is…I think…ah…"

He quickly let her go, observing the anguished look on her face as he smoothed her silver hair away from her now damp forehead. "Do you think…?"

She weakly nodded.

He wasted no time; rapidly he undressed her, unbuttoning her large white shirt and sliding it off her pale body; she did not complain, and hardly even said a word as he gently pushed her down onto the bed, tucking the sheets tight around her as the red tears began to stream down her face. "I'll be right back," he whispered, reaching down to give her a light kiss on the forehead.

He nearly ran out of the bedroom, hurriedly looking around as he tried to catch a glimpse of a telltale red feather. "Dominguez!" he cried out in alarm, his heart beginning to pound as he eyed the empty box, seeing no trace of the bird out in the living room. "Dominguez?"

To his immense relief, the bird rapidly emerged from behind the sofa, where he had been preening his ruffled feathers. Cocking his head, he opened his wings and swiftly flew to land on Nash's shoulder, the faithful, obedient partner.

"What is it, Master?"

"Dominguez, listen carefully," Nash instructed, quickly going to the window. "I want you to go to headquarters to find Wang…I mean, Joker. Or whatever name he goes by." He swiftly opened the pane on the window, and the small red bird hopped onto the sill. "Tell him that I need him here right now. Tell him Sierra's going into labor…ask him to bring anything he thinks will help. But just tell him to hurry."

Dominguez sourly looked over to the open bedroom door, where a slight crying sound could now be heard coming from the messy bed. "Yes, Master," he replied, opening his wings and swooping off on the hot breeze, rising high into the sky above as Nash shut the window, his heart now feeling as though it would burst.

"Sierra," he called as he ran back into the bedroom. She was curled up in a fetal position under the sheets, her hands still caressing the small spot inside her stomach where the source of pain seemed to be coming from. She looked up at him, her breaths coming in fast and low; her eyes looked wild, and immediately sat down next to her, smoothing the hair out of her eyes as she closed them in absolute agony.

"Don't worry, old girl," he said, doing his best to calm her as another wave of anguish racked through her; she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as though her stomach would split open any minute. "Someone's coming to help soon…hang in there for just a little while longer."

Despite the pain emanating from inside, a calm whisper sounded from her lips. "Nash…this child…I…I do not if know if—"

"Shhh," he replied, squeezing her shoulder tenderly. "Don't talk…save your energy. You're going to need it."

_I should tell him my decision_, a small voice inside her said, guilty and secretive as it echoed through the walls of her mind. _It would not be fair to tell him afterwards…_The voice persisted, but she quickly managed to push it away. _No…I will be silent._

She nodded. "Alright," she agreed as another wave of pain slowly crushed into her, causing the bloody tears to flow once more down her cheek.

(-)

It was only two hours.

But to her, it was an eternity.

Sometimes the pain would lessen, to her immense relief. The angry churning inside her would minimize into small ripples, and she could temporarily sit up, breathe without her heart pounding, drink the small cups of water Nash brought to her, no matter how disgusting the liquid tasted to her tongue. But these small islands of respite were always short-lived; in a moment she would sink down onto the damp mattress once more, crying, quietly whimpering in pain.

It was humiliating to her that she be seen in this horrible position; that she had no control over her tears, over her cries, even over Nash's comforting gestures. She, the great and powerful vampire Sierra Mikain—now reduced to a miserable, tormented woman awaiting the birth of…something. She mentally cursed the being that grew within her now, and almost wished for it to be some kind of demon so that she could destroy it when it emerged. For causing her so much anguish, for making her look so vulnerable…any being that did these things was surely malevolent.

He was always at her side, only leaving momentarily to retrieve cups of water from the kitchen, and to anxiously check the clock whenever he passed by the living room. One hour…one hour and a half…what could be taking so long? Dominguez surely would have found Joker by now—but then again…he had not considered the fact that his friend might have been placed on a field mission, since the last time they had spoken had been when Joker had informed him that Sierra was pregnant.

And if he _was_ gone…what in the world was to be done then?

His nerves had almost eaten him alive as he sat there, next to the ill vampire, holding her hand and patting her shoulder at regular intervals. Even in this weak state he could sense the immense power visible in her shining ruby eyes; every time she looked up at him he was reminded of her powers; her vision, her hearing, her strength. He knew how she felt; she was greatly embarrassed. But he did nothing to tell her otherwise; surely she would not believe it.

Two hours after Dominguez had set out a knock finally sounded upon the door. He looked up in relief. "He's here…I'll be right back," he whispered, as he gently released Sierra's hand and walked out of the bedroom. Swiftly rushing over to the door, he grabbed the slippery handle and flung the door open.

The old man stood there, breathing heavily as his chest rose and fell. Dominguez sat on his shoulder, cawing and squawking. "Sorry I'm late," he said apologetically as he came into the living room. In one hand he carried a large brown carpet bag, bulging to the brim with all sorts of strange shapes within. "My supplies," he explained, "I had to get them all from the clinic at headquarters…had to bribe the delivery boy to get my hands on this stuff."

"Gods…come inside," Nash said, his greeting coming out nervous and frustrated as he closed the door behind him.

"Ah…wait!" a voice called out from behind the closed door. "You forgot about me…"

Nash cocked his head at the sound of the unfamiliar voice—female and young-sounding, and surely too sweet to be suspicious. Turning to his old friend he raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"Ah, I asked somebody to come along…she's a student nurse at headquarters, and I sure could use all the help I could get," Joker said, scratching his head. "Don't worry, we can trust her…she's a nice girl." Brushing Nash aside, he quickly advanced to the door and opened it. "Come on in, Mio."

A short, young girl entered, curious eyes peering around the dwelling. She had closely-cropped brown hair tucked under a nurse's white cap, and large, deep brown eyes. She donned a light blue dress under a ruffled white apron, and in her hands she carried a large white bag, presumably filled with even more supplies to aid in the delivery.

"Hello," she said shyly. "My name is Mio…I'm a student nurse at the clinic, and Mr. Joker here told me there was an emergency delivery with some complications. He asked me to come, and I really wanted to help…I hope you don't mind, Mister….?"

"Nash," the blonde answered, giving her a gentle smile. "No, not at all…we need all the help we can get. But…just one thing." He came in closer to her and looked her in the eye. "Ah…I guess you could say this is a 'unique condition'…the thing is, the mother is kind of…well, different from most women. And we're not sure how the child itself is going to turn out…so I'll have to ask you—"

"Oh, don't worry about that!" Mio interrupted, with an understanding look upon her face. "Everything will be confidential…it's a nurse's code."

A sudden, sharp cry suddenly sounded from the bedroom, causing all three to anxiously turn towards the half-open door. "She's in here," Nash announced. "Come…I'll show her to you…"

(-)

The world was shimmering, clothed in brief flashes of red and white…and no matter how she tried to clear her field of vision, struggled to see clearly once more, she could not.

The only images she saw were fuzzy and distorted, more like shapes of color moving across her eyes than actual objects and people in front of her. The pain had finally taken its toll; it had left her weak and incoherent, and she quietly resigned herself to the fact that the entire delivery was now in Nash's hands.

He came into the room now; she would always be able to tell who he was, for out of all the people she had ever been around, his was the face that would always be unforgettable to her. He was followed by two others….two? The first one she surmised was the mercenary doctor, Joker…but the second? It seemed like a young girl, probably not even as old as she had been when she had first been turned into a vampire…who was this? A helper, perhaps? This was unnecessary; the more people there were the more mouths to reveal the truth about her and her mysterious condition…

She could not protest; she could not move, could not even lift her arm as the three crowded around her, their blurred shapes almost menacing to her in the dim light of her mind. The boy slowly peeled the blanket off the damp mattress, revealing her nude body to the doctor and his helper. There was nothing to be done about this, she quickly reminded herself. Few had the privilege to have witnessed her unclothed; these two would have to be thankful she would allow them to live.

For a moment the world turned totally dark; no shapes could be seen, no trace of the familiar azure eyes which she had grown so fond of. But then the universe opened once again; surely some time had been lost, for now the small table next to the bed was loaded with small bottles and packages—medical supplies, she realized. Nash was still standing over her, and the apprehension surrounding him was tangible to her soul as the doctor and his helper bustled about; the doctor rubbing some kind of sticky substance over her abdomen; the nurse setting a hot towel on her already warm forehead….

"…think we should attempt…dangerous…"

"…think so…otherwise…a chance of…"

She gave up on listening; it would do her no good, and whatever they decided to do she would learn the outcome in a little while, anyway…

The waves had subsided for the time being; but now she could feel them coming again, even stronger than before. It seemed like something was trying to burst out of her, trying to dash her organs and skin to pieces, knowing her stomach from inside…trying to destroy her…

_No! Stop! The agony is too great for me…you must stop…_

The battle raged on without end; every time she thought she won over it, overpowered it with her will, it began a new campaign. Arrows pierced her sides; fire burned within; cannons seemed to rip through her, causing her to cry out in pain as she heard the nervous voices of the doctor and nurse…

"…wrong! Induce her to…"

"…not responding…."

What did they want of her? What more could she do? This force was too powerful for her to take, surely; it would kill her, send her to the place she should have gone to several centuries before. It would win over her…she could not stand up to it…

_There must be a way…go…I have given you everything, go! _

One final stance; one ending bow. She would win…she had to win. She would push this thing away from her, sent it off; she would not give up.

And victory.

(-)

It felt like something had been taken from her; as if, in her struggle to win, something important was gone. In the instant it had been removed, an titanic wave of relief had settled over her, cleansing her like a river with its warm, soothing tones; her stomach, empty as it did feel, was released from pain like a prisoner from a cell.

And amidst the purity, the liberation from the battle, mixing with the sudden feeling of emptiness that suddenly materialized inside her, she heard Nash's hoarse words, his crazed tones clear to her ears.

"What…what's wrong? What's wrong! Why isn't she crying! Why isn't she…"

And then the doctor's voice, steely and defeated.

"She…she's dead."

To be continued…

Note: This chapter was a little sketchy to write, too…I had some trouble with descriptions and such, but I'm actually happy that I've finally reached this point…it's all downhill from here. Now, my long plotbunny can finally be fulfilled…oh yeah, and I know Mio is only 27 in Suikoden III, and if we go by Suikogaiden's timeline, she'd be about 12 during this time…but for this story's purposes, please assume that she's about 15 or 16. Just pretend!

Kuroi-neko Kun: Teehee, "pique" seems to be your favorite word. Ah, and sorry about not reviewing your story yet…I just haven't had a lot of time to read fanfiction lately, and I wanted to make sure I had a good amount of time to read yours so I wouldn't rush through it. Don't worry though, I'll be reviewing within the next few days…

Virtue: Yup, most people seem to think Jeane is bi…but as for Sierra, no. I think it's because most people stick her with Nash or Rean or some other guy…no one ever thinks of the possibilities…

Renmazuo: Thanks for your comments! Yup…roles do change over time. Glad you appreciate my story!

Wizard3: The last of Jeane? Perhaps…perhaps not…

Next chapter: Problems, problems, problems…and the child, the poor innocent child…what happened to it? Stay tuned.


	10. Exposure

Disclaimer: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Note: Grr! Fourth draft….I'm going to get it right this time, I swear!

Rebirth

Chapter 10: Exposure

by ArchFaith

Darkness, her eternal home. The deep expanse of empty space beneath her soul, the forever unfilled feelings inside her heart.

Memories seemed to swirl through her mind, one by one entering and exiting in the space of only a few seconds; the beautiful, green countryside in which her native village was located; the smiling, cheerful faces of her parents and siblings; afternoons spent in bliss on the flower-filled hillsides; Rean, the handsome young knight who had become her lover as well as her vampire child; the desolate, forsaken cabin which had later become their dwelling; the Blue Moon Village, her greatest masterpiece; the faces of all the lonely, pained souls to whom she had granted her gift…

The face of Nash Latkje, the Harmonian agent who had asked her to assist him on his mission to find a True Rune. And his eyes…the deep, brilliant spheres of azure, the only eyes that could ever keep her firmly anchored to this world.

And the child…_the child…_

With a small groan she forced her eyes open, blinking several times as the blurry, dim world shimmered around her, the warm desert breeze gently blowing in through the opened window as she brought her hands to her eyes, rubbing them as she rapidly sat up, ignoring the dull pain in her abdomen as she hurriedly looked around the darkened room. The moon had already risen high in the sky; it was past midnight, that much was certain, and the last she remembered the sun was still shining brightly through the curtained windows. The dim glow of the oil lantern was the only light present in the room, and with her temporarily weakened condition, did not do much to aid her sight.

"Nash?" she called out, with a hint of uncertainty present in her voice. Surely he had to be around; he would not have left her alone in the house, not if…she shook the thought out of her mind and called to him again. "Nash?"

A quick sensation suddenly took hold of her heart; her normally calm and measured breathing rapidly increased as through a metal clamp had taken hold of her chest. She looked around the room in vain with her still unfocused eyes, trying to catch any sign or hint as to what had occurred in the time she had been asleep. She was again clothed in the familiar white shirt Nash had given her to wear, and blankets were tucked tightly around her even though the night was sweet and warm. The instruments she had seen on the night table before—the bottles, the needles, the bandages—all gone now, and the entire room suddenly felt bare and unlived in.

A series of rapid notions galloped through her brain as she sat there, afraid to move lest the very thought she dreaded became real. The child…the last thing she remembered was the doctor's voice, saying…so then, it _was_ a child, and not a demon or a mutant as she had imagined it to be. _Ridiculous thoughts_, she reflected…but if it was indeed an innocent baby…had it lived? Was it alright? If the child had died through any actions brought on by her own wishing, she was not sure she would ever be able to forgive herself…was it alive?

_Was it alive?_

Though it had only been a few seconds since she called out the swordsman's name, it could very well have been a hundred years before the door cracked open, and the boy's familiar outline appeared in the low light of the living room. "You're awake," he said simply, coming into the room and closing the door behind him.

Her heart beat rapidly as he crossed the room, his gestures neutral as he took up his familiar place next to her, sitting down in the old straw chair next to the bed. Straining to see his features with her blurred vision, she sat back in frustration, an anguished and suspenseful look spreading over her face as she propped herself up on two hands, trying her best to locate his azure eyes in the darkness.

She almost did not want to ask him; it was the only way possible to relieve her tremendous anxiety, true…but then what if the answer was negative? What if she…

"Nash…the child…" she whispered, her voice low as she gently placed her hands over his folded arms. Her voice faltered for a moment, but then grew more assertive as she squeezed his arms in unease. "The last thing I remember was the doctor telling you it was…dead…"

The horrible phrase echoed through her mind, and her heart beat ever faster as she endeavored to seek his features in the darkness. "Is it true, then?" she finally asked, her soul pleading for relief. "The child is dead?"

His expression was not visible to her; the room was too dark, and her vision was still regaining its sharp clarity as he looked to her, the lines of his face fuzzy as she awaited the answer to her query. "Sierra…" he began, with a tender tone in his voice. "Sierra, don't—"

"Then it _is_ dead," she replied, interrupting his words as a dead weight seemed to settle in the pit of her stomach, replacing her beating heart with a dull, thudding pulse as she struggled to pull herself through the thick mists that had suddenly enveloped her soul. "It…the child is lost."

"Sierra!" the boy exclaimed, in a loud and impulsive tone. "I guess you can't see very well yet, huh?"

"What?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows at the highly inappropriate response. "What are you talking about? Are you not upset? What kind of time is this to be making jokes—"

"Hold on, old girl!" he answered, gently placing his hand over hers. "Look…focus your eyes," he instructed, observing the glazed, glassy expression she had on her face. "Your eyesight must have been weakened…just take a good look at me. Focus on me."

In a wild mix of fury and confusion she drove the blurry vision from her eyes in only a few seconds, her aggressive will driving her into rage as she finally turned to him, taking in the clear sight of his clothes and hair, his eyes, and his crossed arms.

"There! I can see perfectly clearly…now what the devil did you want me to—"

She gasped, her now raging heart coming to a resounding stop as her ruby irises wandered over his visage; the wavy blonde hair, the light desert clothes of brown and white, the small blanket he held wrapped in his arms…

_His arms…_

And suddenly a tremendous blow struck her insides, a powerful blast that made her heart suddenly begin to chime in a great wash of confused exultation, her brain still uncomprehending as she instinctively moved closer to him, gently placing her pale, quivering hands on the small parcel he held tightly in his arms.

On first glance, it had appeared to be a mere assemblage of some sort; a pile of rags, perhaps, or a fluffy blanket. But now, with her vampire vision fully restored to her, it was clear that the tiny bundle he held was indeed far more important than an insignificant piece of cloth…

A gentle smile materialized over the swordsman's face as she gingerly touched the soft bundle in his arms. "You always assume the worst, Sierra," he whispered, shifting closer to her. His eyes drifted up to meet her passionate, confused gaze. "You passed out right after Joker said the baby was dead…you don't remember anything, do you?"

The vampire's eyes turned once again to the small, soft bundle, which she could plainly see was slowly moving, rising and falling with an imperceptible rhythm. With a hesitant glance she gently withdrew her hands, letting them hover over the bundle as she looked up at him. "Not at all," she whispered simply, with a frown visible on her face. Was this…could it be…?

A warm smile was still upon his face as he focused his eyes downward, to the small bundle cuddled tight in his arms. "We…we all thought she was dead at first…her skin was pure white, and she wasn't moving at all when she came out. But…just when I thought we had lost her for good…she began to cry."

Sierra listened to the short story in a surreal daze, fragments of broken images and muffled noise passing through her mind as she gently placed her hands on his crossed arms. "So then…the child is alright?" she asked, her voice betraying the sheer volume of emotion that had suddenly gushed forth from her heart. "It…I mean, she…she is alright?"

His smile persisted as he looked up into her inquisitive eyes. "Why don't you take a look for yourself?"

Her eyes turned back to the small white bundle cradled in his arms. The last few hours had been harsh for her, and the anxiety was not about to disappear; her soul had taken much more in these last few weeks than it had ever borne before, and this new revelation, this new hope that had arisen in her soul—as welcome as it was, still it caused her hands to shake and tremble as she gently placed delicate fingers over the small hood formed by the blanket, lifting it up and tucking it to the side as she took her first look at the being she had brought into the world.

The child had been sleeping lightly, content to lie cradled in her father's now familiar arms during the few hours she had been alive; but now, with the hood of the blanket tucked away, a new light source—the flickering light of the oil lantern—came into play, and the baby slowly opened her eyes to peer up at the new face looking so keenly down upon her.

Azure. Pure, unadulterated spheres of deep azure.

The vampire felt a gasp rise out of her lips as she looked down at the little girl, the child whose life had developed so closely to hers over the last few months. Large, round eyes glanced questioningly up at her as the baby opened and closed her eyelashes, small wisps of light, platinum blonde hair covering her tiny head as she gently shifted in Nash's arms.

"Gods," the vampire murmured, raising her hand to the child's soft cheek, feeling the smooth, warm skin as she gently stroked the baby's face. "So this is the being I have delivered into this world…"

"Where you expecting anything less?" the blonde boy asked, his eyes still focused on the baby, whose eyes were languidly glancing at the both of them now. He gave a slight chuckle. "No demon or monster here, old girl."

"Indeed," the vampire answered, letting her hand drift down to her side once more. "I was wrong to presume such an invalid result..." A small smile formed on her face as the child's blinking azure eyes followed her stare. "I am sorry to say she has your eyes, Nash."

"I noticed that as soon as Joker placed her in my arms," he answered, giving the baby a small hug as the child again shifted in his embrace. "Would you rather she had yours?"

The vampire smiled absently, watching the child's sleepy azure eyes blink up at her. A great wave of relief seemed to rush through her soul as gently ran her fingers over the child's pink cheek. "She is beautiful, indeed," she whispered, the smile still upon her lips as the child extended a tiny hand to her.

For one instant—it could not have been more than a few seconds—it seemed as though a perfect peace had descended upon the small, hot room, upon the still-messy bed on which the two of them—the three of them—sat. As she gently grasped the child's tiny hand in her own, it seemed the entire world—for, to her the world consisted of this one small room—seemed perfect. The lovers…and the child. In all her restless days, when she thought a child would be a hindrance and nuisance to her, she had never thought she would feel quite so attached to this new little one as she did now.

But…still, there persisted a nagging thought. She tried to push it to the back of her mind as she gently touched the child's hand, but still the contemplation raged to the forefront of her emotions; and as much as she tried to stifle it, it formed an ugly tumor in her mind, growling and threatening with every effort to calm it down.

_What am I doing…? Surely this is a dream…but no, it is real. What have I done? I have brought a child into this world…a child with no origin, no explanation for its existence! And then there is the fact of my decision…_

"Do you want to hold her?" Nash's calm voice quickly drove the thoughts away. She delicately let go of the child's hand and looked up into the swordsman's eyes.

"No, of course not. I was never good at handling children."

"Suit yourself," he replied with a calm smile on his face, the tender expression rapidly driving tremors of guilt through her soul as she rolled over the idea of telling him her final decision in her mind. The unnerving sight of father and child had instilled in her a sense of guilt now; a guilt that, she was sure, would be magnified a hundredfold if she were to carry through with the course of action she had decided upon before the baby was born. And this time, it was not only Nash who would be affected by her choice…

"Sierra," he continued in a conversational tone, gently patting the bundle with his hands, "there's…there's something you should know, actually. I didn't mention it earlier, but…"

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Well, the baby's fine…you can see that. But…there is something a little strange about her."

The vampire cocked her head. "Strange? What do you mean?"

"Take a look at her right hand, old girl."

With a questioning glance at her companion, the silver-haired girl quickly unbound the loose wrappings swathed around the drowsy infant until she was able to gingerly draw out the infant's right hand. It looked perfectly fine to her; tiny and pink, as a newborn's hand should be. That is…

Her ruby eyes grew wide as she observed the small set of markings on the child's palm; circles, curliques, an elaborate set of shapes all forming around what seemed to be an oval with a circle in the middle. The markings seemed burned into the child's skin; it could not have placed on her after birth…

"What is this?" she exclaimed, her voice dropping to a low whisper as she looked up at the swordsman. "It…it cannot be…"

He shook his head. "It is," he answered. "A True Rune."

To be continued….

Author's notes: Oh geez! This chapter took me so long to do! Well, I was busy getting ready for an anime convention, and then I went on vacation to Bermuda ;) So it took me quite a while to write! I didn't even include everything I wanted in this chapter…looks like the story's going to be a little bit longer! I think maybe we'll have three more chapters before this wraps up…but please review my story! Sometimes your comments are the only things that keep me going!

Kuroi Neko-kun: Hello there! Hope this chapter was worthy, then…working hard to keep things real.

Virtue: Hmm, the baby….hehehe, it's a pretty weird kid, if you think about it. As for Sierra's decision…that'll hafta wait!

Next chapter: How could a True Rune be etched onto a newborn child's hand? And how was it that a vampire could conceive a child? Sierra needs answers, and somehow they don't seem to satisfy her...stay tuned!


	11. Denial

Disclaimer: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Rebirth

Chapter 11: Denial

by ArchFaith

_A True Rune._

She endlessly turned the words over in her mind, repeating them in her brain as she gently ran her fingers over the dark markings on the infant's palm, ruby eyes glistening in confusion as she tried to deny the existence of the strange symbols on the newborn's hand.

"It…it cannot be," she said, looking up into the swordsman's eyes after a period of pure silence. "Why would you say such absurd things? Surely it is not a True Rune."

"But what else could it be?" he asked, his voice grave as he looked down into the baby's sleepy eyes. "I noticed it when Joker first gave her to me…that there were some weird shapes on her hand. I don't know if Joker or Mio saw it, but I swore them not to tell anyone about us…after they packed up and left, I examined her again myself. Everything about her is normal except her hand…"

The vampire shook her head. "But it cannot be a True Rune," she continued on in a low voice. "Certainly you know the rules of a Rune Bearer, Nash…after the previous Rune Bearer dies or detaches his or her Rune, the Rune selects its next Bearer…True Runes, or any runes for that matter, are not simply engraved onto infants' hands at birth!" The more she spoke, the more she felt her lungs contract in anxiety, the more she felt blood rising to her skin as she looked at the tiny, helpless creature she had brought into the world. "There can be no exceptions to this rule, boy."

"Then what is it?" he asked, a nervous look upon his face. "How did it get onto her hand? Did it form when she was inside you? No one except Joker and Mio touched her before they gave her to me…"

Troubled, the vampire released the child's hand, peering down into the now sleeping face of the innocent child. It was certainly not a True Rune…but then…what was it? A tattoo of some sort…but from where? Nash had been watching the entire delivery…he would definitely have noticed if something strange was going on. She had been born normally…no one had tampered with her…

"Perhaps this marking is an indication of this quite extraordinary birth," she said absently, desperate to form some kind of explanation for the so-called True Rune that graced her new daughter's hand. "It must mean something…but…" Her voice wavered as she looked up at her companion, who was still frowning.

They sat in silence for a while as Nash gently patted the tiny bundle, who had drifted off into a light slumber. As if their world could not have changed more in the last few weeks; news of Sierra's pregnancy, their mutual adjustment to living together once again, the delivery of a seemingly normal baby girl—but of course, no, fate would not leave them alone now that it had toyed and tugged with their lives. Of course there was an explanation for the child's existence—but what connection did it have to this strange set of markings? Was…could it be a True Rune, indeed?

The vampire was still raking over the question when the child again opened her azure eyes, staring momentarily up at the silver-haired girl before letting out a small, vulnerable-sounding whimper.

"Shhhhh," was Nash's immediate response. Sierra cocked her head as she watched the swordsman positively melt as he gave the girl a small hug. "Don't cry, now. Are you scared? Well, don't be…your mother and I are going to be right here." Temporarily forgetting about the matter of the strange markings, he looked up to the vampire and gave her a warm smile. "Right, Sierra?"

_…going to be right here._

It was as if a landslide had been triggered inside her brain; as if, in that one little phrase, her fate had been sealed. But no…the boy was clearly misled; she still had not informed him of her final decision, and she had a feeling that if she did not do so right away, she could never be able to. One more look at his warm, understanding face and she would never be able to pry herself away from him again.

She had to tell him. She had to tell _them_.

"Nash," she whispered, immediately averting her eyes to her lap, where her fingers had folded into a deceptively calm clasp, "I must tell you something…something I should have told you a long time ago."

His gentle face quickly flashed into seriousness. "…what?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet as the baby stopped her whimpering, blinking her large eyes up at her father as he absently frowned down at her.

The vampire sighed. _I cannot play this charade any longer_, she thought grimly. _But can I really continue on with this decision? Of course it has been my plan ever since I discovered my pregnancy…but…oh, I must do it! I cannot bear this any longer…I cannot deceive him any longer…_

"If indeed these markings on her hand are a True Rune," she said slowly, choosing her words cautiously, "…then you shall have to find out yourself why she was born with it."

"Well, that's exactly what—" he paused as the gravity of the sentence suddenly hit him with full force.

_…you shall have to find out yourself…_

"What do you mean...by myself…?" he asked, his voice dangerous and low, the familiar room suddenly becoming dark and cramped as the vampire shifted uneasily on the bed, her pale hands slowly moving the bedclothes aside as she stood, with some effort, stretching her lithe body as the large white shirt obscured her slender frame.

"I feel much better now," she continued in a conversational tone, a thin faint smile upon her face. "I have been in this bed for what seems like ages…a long walk is what I need."

She gracefully bent to open the small drawer standing next to the bed as the swordsman looked on, a slightly disturbed reasoning rapidly developing in his mind. "Sierra…what did you mean when you said I had to find out by myself?"

"Simply that I shall leave it up to you to discover the purpose and origin of these symbols," she continued, locating her familiar old blue skirt and purple shawl inside the small drawer.

_What a coward you are, Sierra!_ the inner voice whispered harshly in her ear. _You must tell him directly. You skirt around the issue and expect him to understand…when it would be impossible for him to understand…_

He narrowed his eyes as she turned to him. "I am going to get dressed," she said nonchalantly as she began to unbutton the long shirt. "I feel a sudden need to be wearing my old clothes."

She was up to something; this much he could ascertain. But it was strange; normally, the vampire would state her purpose—she would not beat around the bush, leading him in circles until he figured out her aim. But what scheme could she have possibly invented this time? So soon after the child had been born…

"Weren't…weren't you going to tell me something, old girl?" he asked slowly as she slipped her flowing white blouse over her head.

Damn…she could not elude his questions now. Well, her fault for alerting him to her decision in the first place; now, she had to find her way out of the quagmire of guilt. "Yes, in a few minutes," she answered, her voice slightly nervous as she reached for the pleated skirt which was still folded inside the drawer. "But it is a beautiful night, do you not think?"

She was covering something up; the disgustingly sloppy way she tried to invert their conversation almost sickened him as the endless possibilities of the secret now made their way into his mind.

His face grim now, he leaned forward, pulling the child protectively towards his chest. "What exactly are you trying to tell me, Sierra?"

By now she had managed to slip on all of her old garments; the blouse and skirt, cape and shawl, stockings and shoes. As she placed her headband securely on her silvery hair, she sighed as she turned away from him, her eyes focusing towards the window where the bluish light of the full moon shone brightly through the thin curtains.

_Coward. _The word echoed in her mind. _Coward. _She could not tell him; she could not hurt him again…but she had to. If she did not, she would one day come to regret it.

For she was Sierra Mikain, the great and powerful vampire mistress, succumbing to nothing, prisoner to no one. Pride—her only true treasure now, the one thing she pushed everything aside for as she struggled to hold it to herself. Greedy, selfish pride. She could not let simple, unimportant things get in the way now; the one thing she cared most about was herself and her well-being; love was not a necessity. Pleasure…perhaps. But not love.

Or so she told herself.

She turned to him.

"I am leaving, Nash."

In an instant he had risen from the chair, his eyes wide as he swiftly walked towards her, a look of pure rage on his face. "What?" he demanded, his azure eyes flashing her own reflection back at her as he came to stand in front of her, his arms still clutching the tiny bundle. "What!"

There was no way she would be able to keep her calm unless she put on an air; so, it was the only thing left to do. Feigning indifference, she calmly narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in an almost child-like manner. "Nash," she said, her voice serious as she raised her eyes to his. "I suppose I should have told you earlier, but…I decided a long time ago that it would be best for me to leave once the pregnancy had ended."

_It can't be true_, his confused, troubled mind whispered as he observed her bored eyes, her jaded expression. After all he had given her…after all he had done for her…and their bond, what of that? This attachment he had felt for her all this time—did it mean nothing to her?

Sighing, struggling to keep calm, he managed to lower his voice as he spoke to her. "You can't be serious," he began, knowing full well that his companion was not up to playing jokes. "You…just can't be…"

She shook her head; it took all her willpower to keep the rigid expression on her face as his suddenly agonized eyes met hers. "I am sorry, boy…it was my plan all along, you see. Once the child—or whatever I thought it might come out to be—was released from my body, it would only be natural for me to depart…you were correct in saying I only came to you because I was ill. And now that the problem has been solved, I thank you for your efforts."

_I came to you because I loved you, Nash_, a wispy, tired voice murmured within her soul. _But I am too selfish to tell you that myself._

"You're kidding," the boy continued on in a crazed tone, his anger slowly heating into fury as he heard the words trickle eloquently out of her mouth. "Sierra…"

Suddenly impatient to be freed, she quickly brushed past him, swiftly walking out the doorway and into the dimly lit living room. Taking a last look around at the now familiar setting, her hand was on the doorknob when the swordsman appeared at the entrance to the bedroom, his stunned face growing cold as he cradled the infant in his arms.

"Sierra!" he called, his tone unforgiving as he walked forwards, freeing his left hand to grab her wrist as she turned in surprise. "How can you…how can you…"

He could not even speak; finally, in a final fit of rage, he managed to get the words out. "How can you do this _again_?" he asked, his eyes wild as he squeezed her wrist harder, surprising the vampire in how tight his mortal grip could be. "Don't think you can just walk out on me after all that's happened between us…everything we've gone through…does it mean nothing to you!"

With a surge of strength she wrenched her hand out of his grip, her eyes steely and cold as she placed a hand defiantly on her hip. "You have no right to speak to me that way, boy," she murmured. "I told you long ago…the affair has been over for a long time now. The only reason I returned was so I could rid myself of this illness…and now that it has been removed from me, I can go as I please."

She could hardly think as the words tumbled out of her mouth; only when she had uttered the unforgivable phrases did she grasp the full meaning of her speech, and the very thought sickened her soul as she realized what it was that she was about to do. Nonetheless; she had never given in to any stupid little inklings before…she was only doing what was best for her…and best for him as well. And the child…surely the little girl could not grow and prosper with a vampire as a mother…

"Are you serious?" he asked again, his voice now so loud that the baby opened her eyes, looking up at her father as he angrily continued. "I…I don't believe this…" In desperation he looked down at the infant, patting her gently as he went on. "Answer me, Sierra! All of this—all I've done for you, everything I've shared with you…our daughter…does it mean nothing to you? Does _she _mean nothing to you?"

The vampire managed to keep her eyes away from the curious child, sure she would break down if she did not. "Do not talk to me of love!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her hips. "And I never said I would stay once the child was born, Nash. Think about it. I never said a word."

Knowing it was true, he tried to go on. "So you're leaving, then? You'll leave me…you'll leave us?"

Scowling, the vampire swiftly turned, her pale hand twisting the knob as the door gently swung open. Turning to face away from the swordsman, she said, in a dangerous, subdued tone, "You cannot force me to stay; I will do as I please. I am a selfish woman, boy…you knew this. And you know it still. I live for myself, and only for myself. Whatever feelings you thought I had for you…lies, all of it. I only stayed with you because of the pleasure you gave me." She eyed him over her shoulder, her face lofty and indifferent. "And now that this little brat is finished feeding off of me, I am going. You can keep her with you or do a you please with her; scum begets scum, I suppose."

What…what was she saying? This made no sense, no sense at all…was it really for the better? Would she be better off alone? Would Nash? Would the baby…?

With that, she stepped out of the house, her lithe feet barely touching the ground as she almost floated out into the center of the torch-lit plaza, her speed lightning fast as the swordsman appeared in the doorway, the blinding tears visible in his azure eyes as he screamed into the darkness.

"Damn you, Sierra! You selfish bitch!" he screamed, the pale figure barely visible as it sped away into the darkness. "Sierra! _Sierra!"_

She turned momentarily, her pained eyes squinting back towards him as a single bloody tear suddenly slid down her pale cheek. Determined not to let him see her cry, she swiftly turned away. Wiping the tear from her face, she took a deep breath and began to run.

In an instant she was gone.

_Sierra…Sierra…_

But of course it was no use. He could scream, shout, carry on, and make a ruckus as much as he pleased; but once the vampire disappeared into the night…she would not be seen again unless she wished to be found.

In desperation he sank to his knees, his muscular frame nearly collapsing under the horrible weight that he had been dropped onto his shoulders. Hugging the tiny infant to his chest, he bowed his head in sudden grief; his eyes had opened wide, his face crossed in blank sadness.

He thought everything would be fine. Once Sierra saw the baby, all would be well; and no matter where the child came from, they would be able to figure it out as time wore on. The important thing was that he would finally have her; so many things had kept them apart over the months, the years—but there had been no obstacles. The swordsman and the vampire, once again. And now…and now…

_You'll suffer, old girl. Believe me…I know you too well. And I'll suffer too. But you know that, don't you? But she…I won't allow your greed to affect her as well. You've lost, Sierra. _

He closed his eyes in immediate determination as he gently rose, his breathing quickly returning to its normal state as he opened his eyes to look down at the curious little girl, who was staring up at him with a confused expression on her face.

"It's alright, little one…don't be scared. I'm here…I'll always be here." He managed to give her a thin smile as he turned to go back into the house. "You need a name, kid. I've been thinking, actually…what do you think of…Sylvia?"

Broken, shattered shards of his heart quickly struggled to mend the mangled frame of his soul as he gently closed the door to the house.

**To be continued….**

Notes: Oh man…I took so long to write this my story got bumped to the second page! This story is soooo long…it's broken a lot of fanfiction records I previously had standing…it has the most words, the most chapters, and the most reviews out of all my fanfics. But hold there, folks, it's still not done! Sierra's so evil…this is what I had in mind all along. That she would give birth to the baby and then heartlessly leave…I briefly toyed with the idea of just having her stay, but where's the fun in that?

So now, Sierra has left Nash twice. What a bitch, ne? Anyways, there will probably be either one or two chapters (or one chapter and then two short chapters) after this…the story is coming into its ending stages. The thing I hate most in the world is when a story just goes on and on after it should have stopped a long time ago…so the ending will be coming soon. But please review this chapter! It really makes me happy to read everyone's comments and constructive criticism; I want to be encouraged AND work on things that need improvement.

(hehe long notes this time) One more thing…my boyfriend and I are cosplayers, and we've decided to do Nash and Sierra for our next cosplay! I've begun working on the Sierra outfit...it'll look great!

Kuroi Neko-kun: Oooh, chocolate bunnies? There's only one thing better than that…I want a Crab Rice Bowl!

thundersenshi: Nash's eyes are supposed to be green? Hmm…they always looked blue to me. Why then, I'd have to change the title of my other fic, "Ruby and Azure" to "Ruby and Emerald"…sounds like Pokémon…hehe!

Virtue: Yup…Sierra's a mommy alright! Not a very good one though…

Krile: Yup, Nash's eyes…couldn't have Sierra's eyes, that would be bad. Babies can't have red eyes, now :)

Next chapter: Sierra thinks she has done the right thing...but of course she knows she hasn't. Times passes by slowly as she ponders her fateful decision…and thinks about Nash and the child almost every waking moment. Stay tuned!


	12. Discovery

Disclaimer: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Note: This chapter takes place _quite _a long time after Sierra left Nash in the last chapter. **A VERY LONG TIME, IN FACT. **Just wanted to make it clear…I read it over and realized that it might be confusing…

Rebirth

Chapter 12: Discovery

by ArchFaith

She opened her eyes.

Memories…distant and fleeting.

_All of this—all I've done for you, everything I've shared with you…our daughter…does it mean nothing to you?_

She had been dreaming again. Of times long past, an age far removed from the one she presently found herself entombed within. Days long gone, much different from now…

_You'll leave me…you'll leave us?_

Everything in her memory had been just as it had been during that long-ago era; the sun shining upon Caleria, with its bustling markets and vibrant atmosphere; the earth-colored walls of the small house with its simple furniture and decorations; the distant memory of being awake early in the morning, long before the boy himself had arisen…smoothing the wavy blonde hair out of his closed eyes, which were sure to be the deepest azure when he opened them…

_Damn you, Sierra!_

"You have received your wish, my boy," she whispered to herself, the thinness and exhaustion plain in her dark tones. "I am indeed damned."

The moon was just beginning to rise; she had to move on. One more instant thinking about the past and she would break down once again.

Wandering, ruby red eyes momentarily gazed up at the large white sphere hanging in the heavens. The moon—once her nighttime companion, the only source of light that had eased her pain and sorrow through all those years, living along with the Rune in that accursed cabin, waiting and watching for any signs of life; the same moon whose light she treasured so when she looked out of the window of the small house in Caleria, sighing and wondering when her pregnancy would end. A source of guidance…a beacon…

…no more.

She picked herself up off the soft, foamy earth, quickly dusting off her shawl and skirt before she straightened up, smoothing her silvery hair against her head as she surveyed her surroundings.

The forest. A deep, endless sea of green, ethereally beautiful in the moon's soft light. Massive trunks stood high in every direction, each tree crowned with branch upon branch of large, green leaves; dense, crowded treetops stretched out over the vast sky, threatening to almost obscure the moonlight as the trees gracefully arched their branches against the heavens. The atmosphere was still and quiet, the only sounds to be heard the occasional lapping noises of a distant waterfall, the droplets pooling around rocks and pebbles as they made their way down a steep ravine.

Surely any mortal would have been frightened to be in such a still, surreal place at night. Or impressed, at least, with its eerie beauty.

Sierra was neither.

Sighing, she willed herself to place one foot in front of the other. It was not an easy task, to begin traveling after she had stopped and mused for a few hours. She often found herself drifting back to the same old memories—and that was not a good thing. For why did she continue to do it when it had been the right decision to make?

Folding her arms in front of her, she shifted her eyes to the forest ahead.

-

She did not know how long it had been since that day, the day so many things had happened; it had been her birthday, and the boy had given her the first present she had received in a long, long time; she had gone into labor, and a doctor and nurse were summoned to help; waking up in mortal fear, believing the child to be dead; watching the boy cradle the little bundle in his arms, sweetness and innocence personified…

Surely it had been many days.

She had counted the sunrises since that time. One hundred…two hundred…seven hundred…a thousand. Each day she would ponder the meanings of her departure from Nash, from the child…the motives, the background…the outcome. For she herself did not remember why it was that she had left; and try as she might to convince herself that it had been the right thing to do, there was always a little nagging thought in the back of her head which always seemed to whisper, _You fool._

Years had passed, that was certain; what had become of them, then? What of Nash? Was he still in Caleria, working on his dangerous missions with that infernal Bishop? Perhaps he had been reassigned to a more pleasant locale, and had long since moved away. Maybe he had made amends with his aunt and sister, and returned to his beloved Crystal Valley. Perhaps he had even married now...surely she was a gracious, kind woman…

And the child? What of her? So many possibilities; she might not even be alive anymore. It was not an uncommon thing for a perfectly healthy baby to suddenly fall ill and die; maybe she had been buried a long while ago. Or perhaps, having determined that fatherhood was not for him, Nash had given her to an orphanage; she might have been adopted by a nice, loving family. But in all likelihood, the baby was alive and still with her father; the vampire clearly remembered the gentle, loving expressions Nash had given the child. Of course he loved her; she was his, after all.

And the mark on her hand? Had it really been a True Rune? But that was absurd…True Runes did not just show up burned into newborns' hands. But then again, there was still no explanation for the extraordinary circumstances of the child's birth; still no reason why an eight hundred year old vampire could conceive a child with a mortal man. The mark on the baby's hand and the almost miraculous mess which had caused her birth had to be related somehow….

But then again…who was Sierra to think of these things? She had relinquished her right to the child the moment she informed Nash of her departure…if he ever did find out why the markings were on the baby's hand, she would never know.

And she could never hope to know.

-

She turned her eyes upwards, to the narrow path formed by the trees and bushes as she pushed her way deeper into the forest, smoothing aside stray branches and stepping over piles of dead leaves. It was pitch dark, and yet no problem for the old vampire; she could see as plainly as if it were day, and this she used to her advantage as she made her way through the dense foliage.

For years she had been wandering; hiking through the misty mountains, crossing endless plains of windswept grass, walking through the cobbled streets of immense cities. She had seen and witnessed many things; the shimmering, clear waters of the southern oceans, the mammoth caves deep within the earth, crowds of gigantic proportions swarming through the marketplaces and plazas of the great cities. All fine and beautiful things, indeed—and yet, none gave her any real pleasure. In all her miserable days spent traveling, nothing could ever truly bring a smile to her face. Nothing could move her, nothing could touch her—it was if she were floating in a thick bubble, immune to the outside atmosphere, witnessing yet not responding.

_I will never find his eyes._

She had stopped by a small village a few days past; the locals had informed her of a famously dangerous waterfall about a week's hike away from the town. There was an inn near the waterfall, and travelers would swarm to take a glimpse at the supposedly breath-taking vista. _Worth a look_, she had decided without thinking. Nothing was really worth a look anymore.

And so she set out, miserable and world-weary. But then…what else could she have—

_"Help!"_

A sudden cry pierced through the night, like the shattering of glass. Surprised, the vampire looked up, glancing into the darkness; someone had called for help…someone was in danger…

"Help! Can anyone hear me!"

A foolish villager in the forest alone, no doubt. Sighing, she focused her sensitive hearing, trying to hone in on the frightened cry—it was coming from the northeast...already she could pick up the quickened steps of feet hurtling through the dark woods, cloaks rustling as the person furiously gasped for breath…

"Help me, please…somebody!"

The vampire wasted no time; for, as horrible and heartless as she had been in the past, she was not the kind of person who would let an innocent die before her eyes. She rapidly plunged into the undergrowth, becoming a ghostly blur as she zoomed through the forest, casting her eyes about for any sign of intelligent life as again focused her hearing.

She could still hear the sounds of human feet running, of quick breaths of air…but now there were other noises to be dealt with as well. These sounds were not mortal; raw and animal-like…padded feet galloping through the brush…a pair of jaws curling in anticipation…

She had to find this person, quickly. She was sure that whoever it may be, judging from their frightened cries and hasty retreat, they did not have enough experience to deal with this animal correctly.

For minutes she ran through the forest, searching high and low for any sign of the lost traveler. The trees seemed to block her every path; it was as though they were trying to prevent her from reaching her goal, trying to tell her to forget about this unfortunate incident, to move on with her travels. Undaunted, she streaked past them; she had lived too long in the forest to be frightened of anything they might hold.

The white blur moved swiftly through the forest, streaking between shadows, here and now flashing glistening ruby eyes. The traveler in danger had stopped screaming; no doubt they were trying to hide somewhere, trying to conceal themselves until danger passed. Clearly they underestimated the natural powers of a hungry predator…

At last she detected some sign of life; strangely triumphant, she slowed to a brisk walk, and pushed aside several bushes to make her way into a small clearing, a little area where the thick trees had been felled for lumber. Looking around, she quickly detected the source of the previous screams; a small figure lay huddled near one of the tree stumps, a tiny creature clothed in a thick traveling cloak, the hood tucked up to his or her eyes.

The figure jumped at the sudden sight of the silvery girl; emitting a squeaky gasp, the traveler drew its hands to its face, eyes filling with absolute terror. "Oh!" it exclaimed in a high voice, leading Sierra to conclude that this traveler was female. "Please…please, don't hurt me…I don't have any money…"

Frowning, the vampire quickly crossed the clearing, her hand on her hip as she came closer to the trembling girl. This girl was young; surely she was not older than eight. She had a slender build that was slightly disguised by her sky blue traveling cloak, and wore knit grey leggings over a thick white vest and tunic. Her face however, was still hidden by the hood.

It had been a long time since the vampiress had dealt with a child before. _What to do? _she mused as she looked the little girl over. The girl looked high strung; it would be best to calm her down a bit before asking where her companions were…

"Look, little girl, I am not a common thief," she said, frowning down at the shaking figure on the forest floor. "I came because I heard you—"

"Look out!" the girl suddenly screamed, covering her face with her hands. Knowing when she needed to heed warnings, Sierra spun about.

There, slowly emerging from a small gap in the bushes, was a large, grey wolf. Blood dripping from its massive jaws, its beady eyes narrowed as it entered the clearing. It was an ugly beast; silvery, matted fur clung in clumps to its back, and it had several scars along its head and stomach. One ear looked like it had been bitten off; the wolf was clearly ravenous, this much was certain. It was looking for an easy meal.

The vampire immediately stepped in front of the child, holding her arms out instinctively as the wolf came nearer, bearing its dirty jaws in an attempt to frighten and weaken its prey. Its taunts seemed to work on the girl; she immediately burst into tears, hugging herself as the wolf approached, snarling and growling as it prepared to mow down the silver-haired woman who was trying to keep it from its prey—

"Stay back!" the vampire ordered, immediately placing herself between the cowering little girl and her hunter. Stretching her arms out, she scowled as she eyed the wolf, who looked about ready to strike. "Cover your eyes!" she commanded; the little girl, apparently too frightened to think twice, drew her trembling hands over her face. Yes, it would not do to have the girl see what would become of the rather unfortunate animal…

The wolf barked, its snarling mouth vicious as it made ready to pounce. The vampire almost smiled; it had been weeks since she had had to battle any sort of pest such as this…she would surely be out of practice. If only she could communicate to the creature that it did not have any chance of surviving this encounter…

"Thunderstrike," she said calmly, raising her hand into the air just as the wolf drew back and jumped.

As soon as its feet left the ground a blinding streak of light seemed to pierce through its body, sending the surprised animal into gasps of pain. The bolts multiplied, accompanied now by loud peals of nonexistent thunder; it was as though there were a thousand little shafts of light penetrating into the attacking animal, sending it into loud, painful convulsions as it writhed in agony on the forest floor.

Unimpressed, the vampire snapped her fingers. The bolts immediately disintegrated, leaving behind a smoldering, gasping huddle of fur, panting in pain on the smoking grass. She did not have the heart to kill the wolf in front of the child; most likely the little girl had never witnessed death in her life, and the last thing she wanted to do was destroy the child's innocence.

She turned back to the child, who had uncovered her eyes and was now looking at the burned wolf with an awestruck expression. "I told you to cover your eyes, girl," Sierra said, her tone coming out more sharply than she had intended.

"I—I'm sorry," the girl replied, her shadowed, teary eyes still focusing in on the unconscious animal lying nearby. "Is…is it…?"

The vampire sighed. "No…it is only comatose for now. It will wake in a few hours' time; it is greatly weakened, but still alive." The girl was still staring, wide-eyed, at the ungainly beast, absently rubbing her hands together in the chilly night air.

"Well then…are you hurt?" the vampire asked awkwardly, kneeling down next to the small girl. "Were you bitten by the wolf?"

The girl tore her eyes away from the wolf's still body to look up at Sierra's face.

_Azure…deep, sky blue…shining spheres of blue light set into a sweet, innocent face…_

"No," the girl answered, sitting up. She brought her hands to her face, in an attempt to wipe away the tears that had formed on her cheek. "It didn't bite me…I'm fine." The girl turned her eyes down, in apparent embarrassment. "Thank you so much for saving me, Miss…"

The shock of seeing the familiar yet long-lost color of the girl's eyes dealt a surprised blow to Sierra's depressed soul. So blue, so bright…just like the color of…no, it couldn't be…

She quickly shook any thoughts of anything other than the child out of her head. "Now, now…no need to cry anymore," she said uneasily, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder, hoping to bring some comfort into the girl's heart. "Well, you were lucky, then. What would a child like you be doing out in the middle of a forest all by herself? And alone, for that matter…"

"Oh…I wasn't alone." the girl replied, gingerly testing out her legs as she sat up and slowly got to her feet. She wasn't very tall at all; even when standing she only barely came up to Sierra's waist. As the vampire rose, the girl continued on.

"I was with my dad…we were traveling in the woods, and we had just set up camp when a bunch of wolves came out of the forest…Dad told me to hide in the tent, but one of the wolves came after me…I had to run away…"

"I see," the vampire solemnly replied, still looking straight into the girl's grateful azure eyes. "So you were separated…hmm." The only ethical thing to do would be to take this child with her until her father could be located; it would certainly not do to leave her alone in the forest. "And your father? Do you suppose he is safe as well?"

"Oh, I bet he is!" the girl answered, giving the vampire a quiet smile. "He's really good at fighting, so I think he's just fine. But he's probably really worried about me now…"

"Well, come along then," the vampire said, motioning to the girl. "The villagers have told me there is an inn near the waterfall up ahead; most likely your father will go there after searching in the forest for a bit. I am sure he will be there sooner or later."

"Okay," the girl nodded, looking up at the ruby-eyed maiden as they began to walk through the dark arches of the mighty trees. "Dad told me not to go with strangers, but I think it's okay this time, because you saved me and everything…"

The vampire could not help but crack a knowing smile. "Do not worry, child, I am not in the business of kidnapping children. Let us go then…you are not frightened, are you?"

"Nope," the girl answered. "Not anymore...I don't think any more wolves will come after me when they see what you did to the one that was chasing me!"

"Flattery will get you no where, my dear," the vampire replied, a sudden lightness suddenly springing up in her heart. How long had it been since she had spoken more than few, vague words to someone? How many days since someone had walked next to her, instead of ahead of her, or behind her? How long since she had rescued someone, had someone be grateful to her…?

And her eyes…surely it could be no coincidence…her beautiful eyes…perhaps…?

"Yes…well, before we go any further, I suppose I should tell you my name," she said at length, looking down at the curious child who was walking next to her. "I am Sierra Mikain."

"Oh!" the girl gasped as she broke out into a smile. "Your name sounds kind of like mine."

"Does it? Well, what is your name, child?"

A large grin slowly spread over the girl's face as she shyly folded her hands together. "Sylvia…my name's Sylvia."

To be continued…

End notes: Bleh, that took me a long time to write…I wasn't sure how to transition between the two different time periods, and exactly how to characterize the little girl. Normally I hate original characters, but this is no Mary Sue, trust me!

Alrighty…I'm sure you can all see where this is going. I won't say anything else though, cause if I did I'd give away the entire next chapter, teehee. THIS is the plotbunny…yes, it took me like forever to reach it. Now, I've revised my chapter scheme…this story will have three more chapters. Yuppers, that should do it. Oh, and please review! Encouragement and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

Virtue: Well, Nash had the baby and all…hehe, Sierra really is suffering…

PsychoLeopard: Yeah, she's confuzzled. I mean, after being alive for 800 years and all…

thundersenshi: Ooooh I know exactly which wallpaper you're talking about! I have quite a bit of Nash/Sierra pics too, as well as my beautiful Nash action figure :huggles him:

by.ur.side: Thanks very much! I always try to write from the heart (corny I know)!

Utuu: Aww, hehe…I'm really glad you like my work! I've got both Nash's and Sierra's personalities permanently ingrained within me…I just love these two so much! Ah, and thanks for clearing up about Nash's eyes…I remember reading that somewhere, a long time ago.

Eni Li'Nave: Hehehe, thanks! Yes, even though it's clearly impossible for vampires to have babies…in the world of fanfiction, anything's possible!

Next chapter: So what exactly were Sylvia and her father doing in the forest, anyway? And why does Sylvia have such familiar eyes? Sierra needs a breakthrough…maybe one is in store. Stay tuned!


	13. Observation

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Rebirth

Chapter 13: Observation

by ArchFaith

"Sylvia…" the vampire repeated, letting her voice caress the delicate syllables. "A beautiful name, indeed."

The girl smiled again, giving Sierra another clear look at her large azure eyes. "Thank you," she replied.

Sierra looked over to the child, who was now walking next to her, making two steps for each of the vampire's one. She was short; she only reached up to the vampire's waist, from the tips of her toes to the top of her wavy blonde head. Yes, the girl had very light, platinum blonde hair; if one were to observe her from some distance, they might even venture to say it was white. But upon a closer inspection, her hair was indeed blonde; it was of medium length, and reached just past her shoulders.

The girl's clothes were another thing, though. If Sierra had seen the child any where else, during any other time, she might have though the girl came from a rather well-to-do family; her traveling cloak was made from fine sky blue leather, reaching down to her ankles and featuring a small hood. Thick-soled brown boots fastened with silver buckles at her ankles and her leggings were of a grey cable-knit material; over this she wore a thick white cotton tunic with a protective vest, with a small brown leather pouch slung low over her hips. Her cloak was fastened at the neck with a small crystal pin. And her hands; her small, dainty hands were mysteriously swathed in black gloves. Rather adult for a child, the vampire mused. Perhaps her parents wanted her to dress in style…

Yes…about her parents…she had to know more. She would ask a few choice questions, and see where the conversation went. If the endeavor proved fruitless, she would dismiss the entire matter. But if the answers the girl provided were of some consequence…then…

_You are lying to yourself if you think this little girl may be familiar_, a grim, angry voice whispered inside her head. _You have grown so lonely you now project your feelings and desires upon this child. Give up the fight. It will only make you more sorrowful._

She decided to ignore her now faulty judgment. It had cost her so much happiness in the years gone by; to listen to it now would only be foolishness on her part.

"So, Sylvia…do you live around here?" she began awkwardly, quite forgetting what it was like to converse with another person.

"No," the girl replied, folding her hands together. "Me and my dad live in Caleria."

_Caleria?_

Sierra forced herself to continue. "Ah…so you are only a traveler in this region."

"Yup," Sylvia replied as her foot crunched down upon a noisy twig. Fortunately for Sierra's curiosity, she began to elaborate. "My dad travels a lot—he's been to tons of places! He works for a Harmonian bishop…so he has to be away some times. But this time he said he would take me with him, because he said that all he needs to do is deliver something to someone. 'Cause he usually does more dangerous work, you know…so I got to come too."

"I see," the vampire replied, with a suddenly tight feeling in the pit of her stomach. Like clockwork the puzzle was revealed…it was all too obvious…but no…it might just be a coincidence…

"So…your mother did not come along as well?" she asked. Surely the little girl had a mother, a good, loving woman who cared for her and encouraged her…

"Ooooh," the little girl replied, suddenly drawing her eyes to the grassy forest floor. "Um…well, I don't really have a mom."

"No?" Sierra continued, despite the desperate feelings within her soul that told her to stop. "Your father is not married?"

"Nope," Sylvia answered, putting her hands behind her back. "It's just me and him. I mean, Dad used to have girlfriends, but they weren't too nice…they were really vain and girly! But he hasn't had a girlfriend for a while now, 'cause he told me that all the girls are boring."

A sort of dull shock had now registered in the ruby-eyed maiden's chest; it was too easy, all of it…the girl's father worked for a Harmonian bishop, he usually did dangerous work, he was unmarried…and this little azure-eyed girl…could she be…?

"But what about you, Miss Sierra?" the girl asked, looking up at the vampire. "Why are you here in the forest at night? Are you traveling too?"

"Well…I suppose you might say that," Sierra managed to falter out, raising a hand to bend back a large branch. "Yes…I have been wandering about for quite some time now."

"Oh," the girl replied, smiling good-naturedly. "Are you going some place special?"

With every little word the child was slowly disarming her; the vampire found it hard not to look into that eager, bright face without telling the truth. "No, not particularly. I just thought it might be interesting to see the world." Such a vague, stupid answer. It was a good thing she was speaking to a child; children were easy to impress, and easy to influence. And so distracted by unimportant things; innocence prevented them from seeing further, from looking past the façade and discerning the truth. Sylvia, it seemed, was no exception.

"Wow, that sounds like fun!" the child exclaimed, nearly jumping into the air, as all children do when they hear something of particular interest. "Have you seen a lot of cool things?"

"I suppose," Sierra replied neutrally, mentally seeing projections of all the beautiful, miserable places she had visited within the last few years. "The world is wide; surely there are many things I have not yet seen."

"Wanna know a place I want to go to one day?" the little girl asked, in a sweet, unassuming voice.

"Where?"

"Its name is carved on the back of something my dad gave me," Sylvia said as she began to rummage through the small pouch tied at her hips. "I've read about it in books, but now I want to see it for myself…" Her low, calm voice drifted off as she turned aside several small trinkets inside the leather pouch. "Hey…wait a minute…oh!" she suddenly whispered, in a decidedly different tone. "Oh no!"

"What?" the vampiress demanded. "What is it?"

"I…I think I lost something…" the girl said, as she continued to feel around the pouch. "My comb…it was in my bag, but I think I must have dropped it…"

"Your comb?" Sierra asked, placing a hand on her hip. Such a small thing as a comb might have dropped much earlier in the night; perhaps when the child was running from the wolf, or when she was hiding behind the tree stump—in the large forest, it could have been anywhere…and she was really not in the mood to go crawling on her hands and knees searching for it.

Fortunately, even such a tiny thing as a comb was no match for the vampire's excellent sense of sight. Quickly summoning her impressive skills, she scanned the forest floor, looking for any sign of a man-made object…so far there was nothing…and nothing still, except the always imposing shadows of trees, magnified by the pale moonlight…

She turned around, as the little girl began fretting over the loss of her comb in anxious, worried tones. A comb…a comb….ah….

A small white object was lying on the ground a few meters behind them; signaling the little girl to come with her, the vampire rapidly strode over to the ground and knelt, gently smoothing away the dirt that covered the comb's surface. Gingerly picking it up, she held it to her eyes…

_Ah!_

The final confirmation; the last piece of evidence. It was true…it was real…there was no denying it now. It was the white ivory comb, decorated with vines and curliques, suns and moons…with the small engraving reading "Falena"…

"Oh!" the little girl gasped, her worried face quickly breaking into a smile. "That's my comb!" The vampire, eyes bowed, handed it to the girl without a word; grinning, the girl clutched the comb tightly in her fingers, giving it a quick examination to ensure that it was alright. "Oh, thanks so much, Miss Sierra!"

The vampire looked up, apparently in a daze; the sudden shock of seeing the familiar item had left her confused soul in silent distress. "Ah…you are welcome, child," she answered, slowly rising. She dusted off her blue skirt, in a quick attempt to regain her composure. "So…we should continue on," she said weakly, looking down at the wavy blonde head.

Smiling, the girl unexpectedly came closer to Sierra and gently took hold of her hand; the vampire looked at her in surprise. "Will you hold my hand?" the girl asked innocently, azure eyes twinkling.

She had always been a fool for those eyes; she always would be. "Yes," she agreed, grasping the girl's small gloved fingers. "Yes, if you would like me to."

"Uh huh," the girl replied as they began walking again. "Oh Miss Sierra, this comb is really important to me…thank you so much for finding it."

"Think nothing of it, my dear," the vampire replied weakly; she was now in a state of high agitation; the fact that she might be holding hands with her own—

"My dad gave it to me for my birthday a few months ago," the girl continued, still tightly clutching the small ivory comb in her free hand. "It says 'Falena' on it…it came from a really far away place. I really want to see it one day."

"Is that correct?" the vampire replied absently, looking down at the child's blonde forehead.

"Yup!" Sylvia answered enthusiastically, as she carefully tucked the small comb back into the leather pouch. "It's really special for another reason, too…it used to belong to my mommy."

"Your mother?" the vampire asked, a sudden, uncomfortable feeling seizing control of her throat.

The girl nodded as she stared straight ahead, through the dark thicket of bushes looming ahead of them. "Yeah…Dad said he gave it to her on her birthday…but he said it was mine because my mom and I have the same birthday!" Grinning, the girl looked up to Sierra. "My birthday and my mom's birthday is the sixth of April! Teehee."

It was as if the nail of fortune had come to hammer down upon the vampire's tortured head; Sierra could barely look the girl in the eye as they maintained their steady walking speed through the thick woods. "Sixth of April, mmm?" she replied, in an almost languid tone. "Yes…it is rather amusing, girl…that is my birthday, as well."

"Really?" the girl asked, with wide eyes. "Oh wow! So there are three people with the same birthday…me, you, and my mom!" The girl cocked her head as she suddenly squeezed Sierra's hand…the gentle pressure of the tiny hand within her own almost served to drive the guilty vampire over the edge as the girl continued on.

"I wish I could meet my mom one day…Dad said she had to leave right after I was born, because she couldn't stay with us…but I wonder why? Dad never told me why…but why would she want to leave? Maybe she thought Dad and me were bad people…but I really hope she didn't. I just wish I can meet her one day." The girl lowered her thoughtful, smiling face to the forest floor as she continued with her reverie. "And I really hope she still loves us, too."

At this moment Sierra roughly yanked her finger out of the girl's weak grasp; immediately bringing a hand to her face, she quickly felt the warm bloody tears against her fingers. With every innocent word that came of this sweet girl's mouth she felt guilt beginning to swallow up her soul, a delayed punishment for the sin she had committed so long ago. _Oh gods…_she thought to herself, closing her eyes and turning away. _What have I done? So many times have I asked myself this…_but what have I done_? I never meant to harm her…I never meant to harm _him_…she is the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on, now as well as then…she never asked to be born. He was only a child himself when she was born…yet he loves her all the same…_

"Are you okay, Miss Sierra?" the girl asked, clasping her hands together in sudden fear. "Are you bleeding?"

"Oh…it's nothing, child," the vampire replied, quickly smoothing the bloody tears off her face. She had to pull through this; there was no way she could explain the truth to the girl now. She could not let on that the many coincidences surrounding their relationship were not pure coincidences at all; the child could not understand this. No…she had to find _him_…she had to speak with _him_…

Fortunately, a small, flickering light through the treetops suddenly twinkled; coupled with the growing sound of water rushing over rocks, it was clear that their destination was close at hand. After carefully wiping the blood off her pale, white face, she looked up with renewed interest. "Look," she called out. "I believe that is the inn near the waterfall…it is only a few more minutes ahead. Come, let us hurry…if your father is there, you would not want to keep him waiting."

"Nope!" the girl said, grabbing hold of Sierra's hand once again; the vampire gave the small gloved fingers a gentle squeeze. "Let's go!"

-

The forest was vast, indeed; if one could look out over the treetops, out upon the floating green ocean awash with delicate moonlight, it would look as though nothing else existed beyond the leafy green behemoths. But the elegant trees were only one part of the forest's great majesty; the other honor, it seemed, belonged to the fabled waterfall.

Quietly pushing away all her tortured speculations for the time being, the vampire turned her attentions to the noisy sound of water lapping against muddy banks, to the loud rushing of water as it emptied out over a steep cliff. They were nearing their destination; already the flickering light grew larger, and was soon joined by other, smaller lights of varying luminosity and position. _Candles,_ she surmised. Surely they had been set up inside the windows of the rooms of the inn; and surely the guests inside were sleeping soundly, aware only of the comforting noises of the water. Peaceful and ignorant of guilt. Of shame.

The moon was still high in the sky, now hovering almost directly over the crest of a large, flat hill; gentle, curving slopes suddenly gave way to a thick, bare rockface, peppered with cracks and scratches. The result of an ancient landslide, it was said; the villagers said there was a lake at the top of the hill, and eventually a stream had started to flow. This stream became a river; and this river traveled over the edge of the cliff, effectively transforming it into a waterfall.

And a beautiful, splendid thing it was. Unfortunately, the waterfall was the last thing on Sierra's troubled mind.

She held the little girl tightly by the hand as they made their way through the woods. The girl had ceased her talkative explanations; judging from her slowing steps and drooping eyelids, she was already quite tired. But they would be nearing the inn soon; there she could eat something and then be put to bed.

_How many times has he put her to bed? How many nights have I missed…?_

Soon, the inn came into view; built at the very base of the deep pool the rushing water formed as it slid down the falls, it was a moderately charming structure built of oak and pine. It was more or less a large house, with a sturdy-looking sloped roof, and linen curtains blowing softly through each open window. Just an ordinary inn, a place for the tourists to go and spend their money.

_This meeting will certainly not be ordinary._

As they neared the steps to the inn, Sierra addressed the sleepy child once again. "We have arrived," she said simply. "Perhaps you should open the door, my dear; I will enter in behind you."

"Okay," the little girl replied, yawning. Suddenly brightening, she turned and smiled up at the vampire. "I hope my dad is there. I really don't want him to think I'm dead or something."

"Well, why do you not go and find out?"

Nodding, the girl slipped out of Sierra's grasp and rapidly ascended the inn's stony steps. Lightly pushing against the wooden door, she gently pushed it open.

-

"Listen, mister, I haven't seen any little kids around here lately—"

The blonde man standing at the counter sighed in frustration; placing both gloved hands down against the wooden desk, he looked with deep annoyance down at the old, tired innkeeper.

"Are you completely sure? Her name is Sylvia, she has light blonde hair and blue eyes…"

The innkeeper was an old-looking man; a crown of white hair sat seemed pasted upon his otherwise bald forehead, and the wrinkles on his face seemed like loose, withered flaps of dry skin. Sleepy, circled eyes peered out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, his thin body obscured by the large, frumpy robe he wore over his nightshirt. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he shook his head.

"Sorry, sir. Haven't seen a little girl at all around here…but if you lost her in the forest, then…well, that's a pretty serious matter…"

_Sylvia…_

"Can you organize a search?" the swordsman demanded, green cloaks rustling against his muscular frame as he leaned forward, in an urgent state of panic. "She was being chased by a wolf..." Bowing his head, he continued. "I tried to go after her, but the other wolves attacked me; I had to fend them off before I could begin looking for her…"

An image of the terrified, screaming child flashed into his mind as balled his fists in aggravation. "Please…there has to be something."

_If anything happens to her…_

The old man again shook his head, a frown now upon his face. "I can send up to the village for a few men to come down, but they'll take a couple of days to get here…I reckon it will be too late by then, if she hasn't shown up by now…"

The sudden, rapid convulsing of the swordsman's heart quickly increased as he gritted his teeth in a desperate attempt to keep calm. "Look, sir…she's my only daughter…she's small, she can't defend herself…there has to be some way to rescue her…I know she's still alive. Please…isn't there anyone here who will able to look for her with me?"

The innkeeper was about to open his mouth once again when the inn's wooden door swung open with a loud bang. Whirling around, the swordsman felt his beating heart come to an absolute stop as the familiar little figure appeared, calmly framed in the shadowed doorway…

"Sylvia!" he exclaimed, kneeling down as the smiling girl rushed into his arms, flinging her short arms around his neck. A quick and rejuvenating relief flooded his soul; if he had lost her…if he was never to see her again…what a punishment that would surely be! For a moment it had seemed as though everything he ever truly loved would be taken away from him, eventually; but no, fortunately that would not be the case.

She was safe, that was all that mattered; he gently smoothed his fingers through her wavy hair as he embraced her tightly. "Gods, Sylvie…I almost thought for a moment I had lost you."

The girl laughed, as if it had only been a practical joke on her part; pulling back, she looked her father straight in the eye. "I'm sorry, Dad…but I'm fine now. The wolf stopped chasing me after a lady came out of the forest and hurt it really badly!"

The swordsman cocked his head. "A lady?" he asked. "Someone helped you escape?"

The little girl nodded. "Yup…she was really strong and pretty! She came with me here, too!"

"She did?" the man asked, quickly rising from his kneeling place on the floor. Setting his hands on the little girl's shoulders, he looked down at her. "She's here right now?"

"Yes!" Sylvia answered enthusiastically. "She's standing right outside the doorway…" Turning back to the still-open door, she called out with a large grin on her face. "Miss Sierra! Come inside! I want you to meet my dad!"

-

The pale maiden had been standing by the edge of the doorway, obscured from view due to the lack of sufficient lighting from within. Sylvia had rushed inside, and from the conversation it seemed her father was there after all.

Yes, her father…

There were two possible decisions for her at this time; the first was to leave. Simply leave. In an instant she could be sprinting through the forest, faster than a human eye could observe. If she simply vanished, no matter what Sylvia said it could not be proven that the vampire was who she was; her father could believe whatever he wished, but there would be no concrete evidence. She could leave them now, without any harm having been done. She could forget the whole situation and go on…

And the second option? Why, simply to show herself; to let it be known it was she, Sierra Mikain, the legendary vampire…the guilty soul. But where would things go from there? What could she possibly say to him now? After so many years of solitude, after so much time to mull over her ultimately self-defeating decisions—what could she say? _What could she say?_

_It no longer matters what I tell him. It is only important that I see him again…that I see his eyes once again…_

She quietly stepped up to the doorway, letting the soft light of the lanterns within cast a flickering glow over her pale, ethereal form. Sylvia stood there expectantly, a calm smile upon her face as she watched the vampire enter the room.

And behind her, his hands still steady on Sylvia's shoulders, was…

The vampire sighed as the man's surprised azure eyes stared, clearly amazed, on her motionless form.

"It has been a long time, Nash Latkje."

To be continued…

End notes: Hmm…I'm having mixed feelings about this chapter. I'm a little worried I might not have elaborated on some things enough…such as Sierra's guilt, or Nash's relief. I'm the sort of person who likes to have every detail put forth in a story…I'm the kind that likes to leave very little to the imagination. Ah, well…I hope I did a good job with this. And don't worry…no more of this "I've come back only to leave you" crap from Sierra…from here on in, it's all or nothing! Every thing WILL be resolved…but for better or for worse…I really can't say. But please review and tell me what you thought of it…good or bad, I want to hear your comments!

I also would have liked to write a bit from Nash's perspective (man I miss his POV) but now that the story is really being told from Sierra's point of view, it would just be out of place to describe everything that's happened to him in the last seven years to the reader. So, it's Sierra's place to ask….and Nash's to answer. Two more chapters, I think. That should do it.

thundersenshi: teehee…yes, Nash does suffer a lot. It's Sierra's fault, that old witch! And yet…she makes herself suffer as well :evil grin: No one's ever happy in this fic, I just realized that…

Virtue: Yup, then Sylvia would have been wolf food. I bet she'd taste pretty good too, since Sierra clearly enjoyed drinking Nash's blood…

Eni Li'Nave: hehe, glad you think little Sylvia's cute. Ah, and about the "ruby-eyed maiden" phrase…I was originally thinking about whether I should use it or not, since pretty much everyone knows "maiden" refers to a young virgin. However, Sierra will always look young; and to me, she'll always look more like a maiden then a woman, really. Yup, incorrect connotation there, hehe.

Next chapter: It's question and answer time. As both Nash and Sierra awkwardly readjust to the other's presence, it's time to catch up. After Sylvia goes to bed, that is…stay tuned!


	14. Reunion

Disclaimer: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Note: I've decided that this chapter will be told from the third-person limited point of view…specifically, from Sierra's point of view. It's a little hard for me to write in Nash's perspective right now, as the audience doesn't know what's been going on with him lately…

Rebirth

Chapter 14: Reunion

by ArchFaith

"Sierra…?"

She nodded.

_Sierra._

He was much the same as he had always been; standing there, tall and muscular, his frame still visible under the thick green cloaks he wore around his body. Still dressed in the familiar thick tunics and leggings which protected from both the elements and any would-be attackers; the ratty old scarf was still draped around his neck. There was a large pack of supplies lying at his feet, as well; most likely a tent, cooking supplies, and clothing for a long journey.

But his face—ah, his face. He had not changed at all in appearance; his blonde hair retained its slightly wavy appearance, and his azure eyes…it was plain to see that this man was where Sylvia inherited her bright, amazing orbs. But the expression on his face, now…when last she had seen him, he was still just a boy; naïve, fairly inexperienced, charming in a youthful sort of way.

But now, as she laid eyes on him for the first time in over seven years, the first thing that struck her was the almost indiscernible expression on his face. No longer was he the young, dashing boy whose heart she once held so dear to hers; no. He was truly a man now; in his eyes she saw experience, passion, extreme heartache…remnants of a long-ago love.

A total stranger…and yet, to her the person she knew best in all the world.

_Nash._

At the first sight of her, he had temporarily loosened his grip on Sylvia's small shoulders; but now, as she quietly stepped in through the open door and slowly crossed the room over to where they stood, by the counter of the old inn, he tightened his hold on the little girl once again.

Sylvia, the poor innocent child—happily ignorant of the entire miserable situation, she smiled up at the guilty-looking vampire. "Miss Sierra…this is my father, Nash Latkje." Turning her head slightly, she motioned up to the swordsman, who still bore a look of extreme disbelief upon his face. "Nashie, this is Miss Sierra…she's the one who helped me when the wolves were attacking me. If it weren't for her, I'd be dead by now!"

Nash's eyes were still locked to Sierra's ruby gaze; incredulousness, brought on by the sudden appearance of the traitorous vampire just when he thought he had lost the dearest thing in the world to him, was slowly giving way to a different kind of feeling, now…through all the great shock and surprise this strange situation had produced, his aching mind struggled to sift through the bits and pieces of information presented to him: Sylvia had been attacked by a wolf…Sierra had somehow found her and rescued her, and brought her back here, to him…but surely it was not a coincidence…

This woman…this selfish, uncaring woman who had abandoned both him and their child…and yet…the woman he hadn't been able to stop thinking about for all these years gone by…

"Did…did you know we'd be here?" he suddenly, his first words to her; spoken with a slightly accusatory nature, he regretted the phrase as soon as it came out of his mouth.

She shook her head. "I had no idea." She averted her eyes to the floor. "I had no idea who this little girl was until she started speaking to me."

It seemed as though they had forgotten others were listening in on their conversation. Sylvia's confused eyes now roved from the swordsman over to the vampire, and the old innkeeper was leaning against the counter, a perplexed expression upon his face.

"Dad," the little girl whispered, tugging at one of his green cloaks. "Do you and Miss Sierra know each other?"

Nash sighed; there was no way he could possibly explain this to the child. So small, so innocent; none of it had been her fault. She could not be exposed to this madness; and, even though he hated the option, he had to devise a charade. "Yeah, Sylvie…from a very long time ago," he answered, gently patting the girl on the shoulder.

The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably against the wooden panels of the counter. "Excuse me," he interrupted, looking around at the awkward assemblage, "I don't quite know what's going here, but…look, sir, I'm very glad you found your daughter, and very glad to know this lady here rescued her," he said, nodding to Sierra. "But as of right now, it's an extremely ungodly time to be awake. My guess is that you all must be pretty tired. You've been though a lot tonight…tell you what." The innkeeper pushed his thin glasses up his nose as he continued. "You can all stay here for free tonight…it's on the house. You and your daughter can have one room, sir," he said, looking to Nash and Sylvia, "and this lady here can have her own," he finished, glancing at Sierra.

It was almost too good of a proposition; glancing at the swordsman, whose hands had tightened around the girl's shoulders, the vampire suddenly felt a cold shiver travel down the length of her spine; clenching her fists together in a rapid realization, she quickly looked down to the little girl, who was now watching her with a grin on her face.

"Oh, that sounds so nice…could Miss Sierra have the room next to ours?" she asked, turning to look up at her father.

Scratching his head, Nash looked over to the innkeeper. "Are you sure it's alright?" he asked, stealing a quick look at Sierra. "I can pay for our room…that's what we'd been planning to do, anyway."

The innkeeper quickly shook his head. "Don't worry about it, son," he said, gesturing with his hand. Turning, he reached under the counter, his bony hands quickly grabbing hold of a pair of keys which he then laid upon the table. "I have children myself…I know what it's like to be afraid one of them might be lost." He kindly smiled down at the little girl. "These two rooms are connected, so you can still talk to this brave lady here…they're right upstairs, the first and second rooms to your right."

"Oh, thanks sir!" Sylvia answered, smiling. The innkeeper nodded politely, and quickly retreated back behind the counter, through a small wooden door that was built crudely into the wall. Returning to bed, no doubt…of course. All of his worries were over; he had no idea how much this little meeting meant to them. Having done his good deed for the day, he would just leave everyone to their own devices. Just a minor player in a story…just a character in the march of life. Everyone else in the world, it seemed, had found an easy way out. An easy way to fall in love; an easy way to have a child; an easy way to build a life together.

Looking back at the blonde swordsman, she gently sighed.

She, regrettably, had chosen the hard path so many years ago.

"When all is said and done…we shall speak," she whispered, looking up to the swordsman's intent gaze. "But not now."

Nash nodded, his expression almost unreadable in the half-light of the slowly dying oil lantern. "Sounds good to me," he said, a hint of sarcasm present in his voice as he looked down to the small girl, who had reached onto the table and was now clutching both sets of keys in her hands. "Don't you think you should give Sierra her key, Sylvie?"

Smilingly, the girl gently placed the key in Sierra's pale hands. "Will you stay up and talk with us, Miss Sierra? Since you and Nashie know each other, you must have a lot to talk about!"

Forcing a smile out of her stricken lips, Sierra gently patted the girl's shoulder. "If you wish me to, my dear. But are you not tired? You have had a long day, after all…perhaps you should rest."

Yes; the little girl must be put to bed as soon as possible. There was no way she and Nash could talk if there was even the slightest possibility she was awake. But until that time, both of them had to act rationally. As hard as it was not to start accusing and apologizing, they could not lose themselves in front of their daughter.

_His daughter…our daughter…_

The interior of the inn was dark, save for the waning oil lamp on the counter; its dim light partially illuminated the small space, letting various details slip into view. There was a small wooden bench in the corner, squarely set next to a round wooden table which had a small potted plant on it. Besides that, there was not really anything else in the room, save for two curtained windows, straining to keep out the strong moonlight. The stairs to the next floor were in the far corner of the room.

Sylvia gently tugged on the edges of Nash's long cloak. "Dad, will you carry me upstairs?" she asked innocently, bringing balled fists up to her eyes, rubbing them in a slow, sleepy motion. "Miss Sierra was right…I _am _kinda tired…"

Cocking his head, the swordsman knelt and carefully gathered the little one in his arms, letting her short legs swing over his arms as the girl rested her blonde head against his chest. "Teehee," she giggled; for as tired as she was, it seemed she would never lose that cheerful sense of humor. "That's a lot better."

Sierra watched the simple exchange with a sudden ball of guilt welling up inside her throat; apparently, from what she had seen, father and daughter were indeed close. But it was not as if she had had any reason to doubt this; for underneath the swordsman's skillful, deadly exterior, there lay the other side of him—teasing, gentle, sometimes tender. And affectionate to a fault; it was clear Sylvia had been raised in love.

Love. _The one thing she had been unable to give…_

"Coming, Sierra?" she heard his hard, almost demanding voice once again; Nash was a few paces ahead of her, standing at the foot of the long flight of stairs. His look was neutral, unreadable on the outside; but it was clear. After all the surprise, all the shock, the natural amazement at coincidentally running into the very woman he had loved all those years ago…he was angry. Furious…seething with hate, it seemed. Sierra herself did not know; but she was sure he was. For he had every right to be; yes. For the first time in their long relationship, it was he who was going to be angry with her. And she…she could say nothing.

Sighing, she squeezed the wooden key in her hand and turned to follow Nash, who was already halfway up the stairs. From over his shoulder, Sylvia peered down, a gentle smile upon her face as always—what a torture it was. She was so sweet, so innocent…she was the same being Sierra had once referred to as more of a thing than a child, the same creature she thought to be a demon or a monster…

_What have I done…?_

And then, when "all was said and done"—when Sylvia was safely out of hearing range—what would she tell him? What could she ever hope to say that would ever atone for…to regret her sins, against both him and the child they had created together…_what could she say?_

It was a short walk up; at the top of the stairs Nash set Sylvia down, much to her extreme resentment. Blinking sleepily, she looked up to her father with a questioning glance as he gave her a light pat on the shoulder. He turned his blonde head to look Sierra in the eyes; his azure gaze was especially intense. Powerful, as well; but perhaps, she reminded herself, it might have been because she had not witnessed his eyes for such a long time. In all actuality, they were still the same eyes; and yet, she had a feeling they were not.

"Sierra…the innkeeper gave you a separate room, right?" he asked, looking down at the key in her hands.

She nodded. Ah…she could see where he was going with this. "Yes, he did. Perhaps Sylvia should sleep in my room for tonight."

"Is that because you and Miss Sierra want to talk, Dad?" Sylvia asked sleepily, trying with little success to suppress a yawn.

Nash shifted his gaze to her, and reached out with a gloved hand to affectionately tousle her hair. "That's right, Sylvie," he answered, in what he hoped to be a light-sounding voice.

The child said nothing; she was far too exhausted to argue or to question why. With half-closed eyes, she watched languidly as Sierra approached the door and placed the key squarely into the small hole. With a satisfying click the door swung open, and the vampire stepped into the room.

It was small, and simple; there were only a few pieces of key furniture, which included a bed with a mended quilt for a cover, a small nightstand set with a lamp and a water pitcher, and a large chest placed at the foot of the bed's wooden frame. The windows were hung with white cotton curtains, and a single chair had placed next to the bed. As the innkeeper had promised, next to the nightstand was another door; no doubt connecting to an adjoining room.

_He and I used to sleep in these kinds of places on our travels together, _she mused as she looked to the blonde swordsman, who was slowly guiding the little girl to the bed. _Mmm…that was a long time ago._

Sylvia gently sat down upon the bed, her sleepy hands reaching for the closure of her sky blue cloak. With a single gesture she flung the cape off her back and placed it rather messily on top of the old straw chair. She reached down to her feet, and tugged the brown boots off with some difficulty. The small leather pouch which hung across her hips was placed onto the small nightstand. Now dressed only in her loose tunic shirt with gray leggings, she contentedly swung her legs up and stretched out full-length on the bed, her small frame leaving plenty of space for two or three more people to crowd in with her.

Nash had absently been watching her, his eyes roving from Sylvia's rather mundane rituals to Sierra's uncomfortable gaze. Now though, he crossed the room and slowly sat down next to Sylvia on the bed, his eyes now showing a patient yet nervous quality.

"What about your gloves, kid?" he asked, giving her a pat on her blonde head.

Sylvia looked up at him, confusion evident in her large azure eyes. Her gaze gradually shifted from his to that of Sierra's, and she slowly sat up, placing her still-gloved hands in her lap. "But Dad…you told me…"

Nash shook his head. "It's alright, Sylvie…you can take them off in front of her." Turning back to the vampire, he lightly motioned for her to come nearer.

The vampire had been standing with her arms crossed over her chest, as if to protect herself from any guilt that might try to pry its way into her heart. Reluctantly, she slowly came forward, approaching the bed as the little girl removed her black leather gloves.

For a moment, she almost did not remember what was so important about the girl's hands; it was with a confused expression she drew near, to see why the child had been so secretive about removing her gloves. But now, as the girl slid the thick gloves down her small hands, the vampire suddenly realized why the child had been so special in the first place.

There it was—the markings, the strange, circle-like markings that had been visible on her right hand since birth. A abrupt remembrance overtook the ruby-eyed woman, suddenly—long-ago memories of a small, blonde-haired baby with azure eyes, helpless and tiny as she lay there in her young father's arms….so serene.

A memory so…twisted, by her own selfish decisions. A future that had been lost to her…years she had missed in the childhood of this beautiful little creature. With a sudden gasp she drew back, placing her hand over her mouth; she was not surprised to see the markings, and yet, she was suddenly horrified by the memories they had provoked. In the blink of an eye, all her misgivings, all her sins had returned to haunt her.

Sylvia immediately covered her hand upon seeing Sierra's startled reaction. Looking back to her father, she shook her head in worry. "She's scared…" the girl whispered, indicating Sierra with a glance of her eyes. "I shouldn't have taken off my gloves…."

The swordsman sighed resignedly. "No, Sylvie, it's alright," he answered, briefly glancing over his shoulder to catch a look at the vampire, who looked positively stricken. "Sierra has seen your hand before, long ago…when you were just a baby."

Immediately trying to play into the charade, Sierra nodded. "Ah…yes. I am not scared, my dear…it just brings back many memories, seeing these markings on your hand. But I am not appalled at all, I assure you."

"Uh…okay…" Sylvia answered with uncertainty, frowning. "I mean…but you'll tell her about it, right, Dad?" She gently reached out, to take his much larger hand into her tiny grasp. "You'll tell her what it means, right?"

Giving her a smile, Nash squeezed the small hand which grasped his so tightly. "Don't worry about it, Sylvie. I'll tell her everything. But I want you to get some rest…you've had a pretty busy day, don't you think?"

The girl nodded. "Alright," she agreed, a small grin playing on her face. "I _am_ pretty tired…"

Nash gently rose off the bed, and pulled the coverlet of the blanket back to accommodate Sylvia's small form. He tucked the blanket up to her chin; she looked almost doll-like as she lay there, half-closed azure eyes framed by her wavy blonde hair. "Goodnight, Nashie," she whispered, blinking sleepily. "Will you give me a kiss?"

Nash smiled, and quickly leaned down to give the girl a gentle kiss on her cheek. The girl giggled and shifted slightly on the bed. "And Miss Sierra…you have to give me a kiss too!"

At the sudden request Sierra felt her nerves suddenly stiffen; a kiss? The little girl wanted a kiss…but surely she could not kiss her! She was unworthy of even touching her hand, of even making eye contact with her; this was the same child she had abandoned so long ago…and the same child who wanted a sign of affection, now…

In a daze she walked towards the bed, her steps slow as Nash watched her with a discerning eye. She knelt down next to the soft mattress, her skirt trailing against the floor as she placed herself at eye level with the smiling child. Awkwardly, the vampire moved her face close to that of the child…ah, but she could not do it, she could not…

But the little girl deserved this much…the sweet, innocent child. With a sigh, the vampire planted a light kiss against the girl's forehead, causing the girl to break out into a grin. "Teehee," she laughed as Sierra moved away. "Goodnight, Miss Sierra."

"Goodnight, child," the vampire replied, rising from her place on the floor.

"I can leave this lantern on, right, Dad?" the girl asked as Sierra moved across the floor to stand near the blonde swordsman. The oil lantern which stood on the nightstand next to the bed was still burning with a dim light; clearly, Sierra thought, Sylvia had not inherited her mother's taste for quiet and darkness.

"Sure," the man replied as he turned to Sierra, a serious expression upon his face as he turned to the vampire. "We'd better talk in here," he whispered to her, looking into her ruby eyes. He gestured towards the door leading to the other room.

Sierra nodded. "Yes," she agreed. Nash reached out and gently turned the knob. With a last goodnight from the half-asleep Sylvia, both of them stepped into the next room, Sierra gently closing the door behind her.

"Well, Sierra," the swordsman's voice called to her, his tone a strange mixture of anger and curiosity as he again locked into her ruby gaze. "I guess it's time we had a talk."

**To be continued…**

End notes: Hmm….I don't know about this one. First of all, not much happened in this chapter, but I felt that I had to show a transition period between Nash and Sierra…I would have loved to have them talk in _this_ chapter, but then I would have had to omit the whole "Sylvia goes to bed" scene. I felt it was important to show exactly what happened after Sierra met up with Nash again, and not just provide a summary to the audience. I know nothing really exciting happened here, but please review anyway! I love reading all your comments and criticisms…everything helps me develop into a better writer!

Side note: For me, school is about to start…in a week, in fact. So, while I will still be working on this fanfic, I don't know when the next chapter will be up. I'm hoping to have it by next week, before I leave, but if I don't, then it will most definitely come within the next month. Blah news, but I gotta concentrate for real this time…going off to college, you see. I hope I find some Suikoden lovers…

by.ur.side: Thanks so much! I'm so glad you liked my story…and don't worry, I don't mind speculation in reviews. It's quite fun to read, in fact…actually, your review made me really consider changing something around in the conclusion of the story…but in the end, I decided to go with my original idea! Keep on thinking though, cause your thoughts are really well-organized…

Virtue: Hehe, thanks! Glad you think Sylvia is cute…I just tried to give her a really sensitive, sweet nature, to balance out Sierra's often mean, bored behavior. Amazing how mother and daughter can turn out so differently (in my fic, anyway!)

PsychoLeopard: Yes, I know…I really should have expanded on Nash's fear. I was trying to make him seem panicked, and I didn't exactly remember how to write panic…so I kind of just made his thoughts short, to simulate someone who isn't thinking very straight. Blah…I'll do a better job in later chapters!

L4zyL4dy: Don't ya just love random stories? I once randomly clicked on a Star Wars story one day, and geez, it turned out to be so amazing…

Don Quixote: Teehee, don't worry, I'm working on the next one as I write!

Next chapter: Well, it's the final showdown…once passionate lovers, the swordsman and the vampire find themselves at odds as they catch up with each after seven years of being apart. Will this reunion end well…or will it end rather badly? Stay tuned!


	15. Exchange

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Rebirth

Chapter 15: Exchange

by ArchFaith

The room in which the pair found themselves in was much like the one they had just left, save for the fact that it contained two beds instead of just one. The blonde swordsman, apparently tired and exhausted, immediately crossed the room and sank down onto one of the beds, letting the soft, feathered mattress cushion his fall as he let out a deep sigh. His gaze immediately wandered over to the vampire's nervous eyes.

"Going to sit down, old girl?" he asked; she could not read his tones. His voice was neutral; certainly not very friendly, but yet without a harsh edge. If anything, the voice was curious, and rightly so; for it was not everyday that a supposedly long-lost lover was reunited with the man she…

_Reunited_. That was not quite the right word; no. Reunions were happy, they were times of joy. And this little meeting, this talk they would have—it was anything but joyful.

She slowly crossed the room, her feet gently sliding against the wooden floorboards as she gracefully came over to where Nash sat, her arms crossed over her chest. She sat down next to him, quite uncomfortable in the steady azure gaze which had so enticed and excited her so many years ago. The point of the matter was…there was nothing she could say to him. She could not accuse; nor could she chide. For the fault was hers and hers alone, and no errors had been committed on _his _part. She braced herself silently, painfully; now would come the waterfall. Not the waterfall outside the inn, falling to the valley below; but the waterfall of words, of anger and resentment, reminders of the sins she had committed for her own selfish, confused reasons.

_I deserve as much. It is about time._

He was observing her, now; his eyes locked onto hers, and they held each other in wary, self-protective caution. After all these years, she looked completely unchanged; the silvery hair, the white skin, those ruby red eyes which had promised him paradise—all the same. But her mannerisms…ah, this was the difference. The Sierra he had known and loved had been assertive, self-serving, and pompous—the same qualities which, he supposed, had caused her to abandon him and Sylvia over seven years ago. And yes, he was angry; angry beyond description, as it where, angry to the point that he wished he had never even set out for the waterfall with Sylvia in the first place. Then he would have never met up with this bitch of a woman again…he could have just kept on believing his assumptions, that she had forgotten about them and moved on, just as he had tried so many times to do when he thought about her…

But no; the unhappy meeting had begun, and now it had to run its course. The vampire guiltily averted her eyes to the floor, placing her hands on her lap as she fingered the fabric of her light blue skirt with two slender fingers.

"Nash…I realize this is a very improbable situation we have found ourselves in," she began, her voice low and even, straining to keep the true emotion from bubbling out into the surface. "But understand…I did not know you would be here tonight. I came upon the girl in pure coincidence…I did not know who she was until she started talking with me."

The blonde man nodded; out of all the things Sierra had been in the time he knew her, she was not a liar. "I know…" he answered simply. "It's a good thing you were there." What would have happened to Sylvia had Sierra not been there to protect her…? With all the power and intelligence the little girl possessed, surely she could not have defended herself from that ravenous beast…so, it was a trade-off. Sylvia's life had been spared; and for that, he now found himself subjected to torture in the form of a silver-haired woman's voice.

_We shouldn't have taken the high road; I should have mapped out a different route…_

"What were you doing around here?" he asked her, suddenly; it was not time for difficult conversation as of yet. No; they would ease themselves into this. The awkwardness which so pervaded the atmosphere would not be lessened unless the groundwork had first been laid.

The vampire shook her head, in quiet reflection. "I do not know," she answered. "I heard about this waterfall from the villagers in a town a few miles from here…I decided it was worth taking a look." Was it worth it, in the end? To stumble upon one's own child and then to have to meet with her anger-wrought father? Was it worth it? She pushed the question out of her head as she looked back to the blonde swordsman. "And you? Why were you here?"

"My newest assignment," he answered. "Sasarai asked me to deliver some messages to an agent in Vinay del Zexay."

"And you brought the girl with you?"

He ran a few fingers through his wavy hair. "I thought it would be a good idea," he said. "No dangerous tasks this time...or so I thought."

She nodded, noting with grim amusement the irony in his voice.

For a few moments they were silent again, both struggling to find an adequate voice to relay their true thoughts and feelings. At least they could speak to each other; a start. But to accurately convey the depths of emotion they both felt at the time…was it possible? To tell, in a few short sentences, the impact the other had made upon their lives in the past few years?

Sierra's eyes slowly wandered to the small window set on the other side of the room, curtains pulled back as it let in the soft, white moonlight. A window…she could leave him, once again. She could slip out and disappear into the night, as she had done so many times before; this conversation would then be over. And she could make sure she would never see either Nash or the girl again…yes, things could return to normal…

_Normal…normal…?_

No; she would stay and endure. As easy as it was to run away, she had done it so many times before—after the adventure with Rean, her first departure from Caleria…and then the third, damning abandonment of the only person in the world who had ever been able to see into her heart. And as far as she was concerned, mental torture was the least of her worries.

"Nash…I must confess, I really do not know where to begin," she whispered, folding her hands in her lap. "I know that your anger with me is unfathomable, and that I have no right to even so much as look at your daughter." The pain stung; _your daughter. _But she could never truly call Sylvia her own; of course she had given birth to the child, had nourished it within her body. But these things were not her own choices; Nash, however, had made his own regarding the tiny baby lying in his arms so many years ago.

The swordsman crossed his arms over his chest, in a seemingly defensive gesture. "If you feel that way, Sierra, then maybe you should clear out." His once neutral tones now took on a more aggressive nature; knitting his eyebrows, he frowned over at her. He would not spare her; if there was something he felt should be said, so be it. "It isn't like I really want you here in the first place."

"I know," she answered quickly. "But…please," she continued, looking at him with a steady ruby gaze. "I will not stay long…but, as cold-hearted and cruel as I have been…I must ask one thing of you. Please…indulge me one last time. I would just like to know a few things before I leave…you must answer my questions for me. If you do this for me, I will leave and travel far away; you will never lay eyes on me again. As unworthy as I am," she continued, now averting her eyes to her lap, "I would be eternally grateful if you allow me to ask you a few questions about the years gone by."

He blinked slowly. Her words wrung true in his mind; she wasn't worthy at all. In all truth, he should have shown her the door right then and there; but then, in retrospect, what good would this do? As much as he loathed her presence, if they parted ways now all would still be unresolved. He would never know why she left, or what she thought of Sylvia now that she had actually seen the girl; she, in turn, would leave knowing nothing about the life he had led for the past seven years. Too many questions left unanswered on both their parts, and a meeting like this would not happen again. Even though Sierra was an immortal, he was not; and though she might be around to witness the countless ages to come, he would one day die an old man.

He sighed, and decided to put aside his initial feelings of resentment. For now, he would allow her to speak; perhaps, in this one night, the unsettled emotions and questions in his mind could be put to rest. Maybe this meeting was a good thing…

_Maybe._

"Go ahead, old girl," he whispered, propping himself up against the soft mattress with his arms. "What is it that you want to know?"

The vampire hesitated for an instant; but with one swift glance of her eyes to his own, she spoke. "How have you fared since I departed, my boy? What did you do…how did you raise her?" She unclasped her hands and laid them squarely in her lap. "Truly…you have no idea how many times I have wondered this myself…"

_If you wondered about it so many times, why didn't you come back to find out? _he thought grimly as he contemplated his answer; there were many layers to this question. And the truth had to be told. And tell he would, as unrelenting and insulting as it was to her. Leaning forward, with a quick flash of anger in his eyes, he turned to her.

"Things weren't exactly easy after you left, Sierra…those first few months…" He momentarily closed his eyes. "I'd call them the most difficult of my life so far." Noticing her frowning expression, the underlying irritation in his voice rose to an almost tangible tone. "I guess I'm used to it now…seven years is a long time to adjust. But back then, I didn't know what to do. I had to keep working, but someone had to look after Sylvia…Joker helped me out a bit there. An old woman he knew back from when he was a kid agreed to help me look after her…to this day, whenever I go on missions, that's who Sylvia stays with."

The vampire nodded, in silent reception. "And…she goes to school?"

The blonde man nodded. "Yeah…it's a school for Harmonian children living in Caleria. Lena and Yulie made me promise to send her there…"

The vampire's eyes opened a little wider. "Lena and Yulie?" She had heard those names before from him…long-ago, forgotten people… "Do you mean your aunt and sister?"

Nash nodded, running a tanned hand through his sandy hair as he spoke. "A lot has happened in seven years, Sierra…Sylvia was only two years old when all of a sudden they showed up at my doorstep one day. They had been tracking me down for months, and finally located me in Caleria…heh, you can imagine their surprise when I told them I had a daughter…" A fleeting image of his aunt and sister's shocked faces quickly ran through his head; if the situation had not been so awkward, he would have chuckled on the inside.

"Ah…" Sierra said simply, with a sudden twist of regret now churning inside her stomach. "A good development indeed…do they visit you often?"

"They make it a point to try and come every year," Nash answered, looking back at her. "I was pretty happy about that."

"Yes...and rightly so."

For a fleeting moment the horrible silence pervaded the atmosphere once again; the vampire shifted her eyes to the floor as Nash turned to her in curiosity. "And how about you, old girl?" he asked, his voice low. "What have you been up to all these years?"

So he had asked the question, the dreaded inquiry; he had been good at keeping the conversation amiable, but of course there were answers that needed to be shared. Now was the time—the vampire took a deep breath as she lowered her eyes to the floor. Even now he was still being patient with her. _He was always sweet to me_, she thought, the bittersweet memories running through her brain as she braced herself; he had been patient with her all along, and aside from a few glares or sharp gestures, he had attempted to be civil with her—a lover to the very end.

"Well," she began, with a slight sigh, "after you and I parted ways…I wandered, once again. But I did not go back to the Blue Moon Village…that place holds too many memories for me. Instead I decided to traverse the world, and see it in all its glory..." Her voice trailed slightly as she pondered the irony of her words; _glory_. Of course. The world could only be beautiful to her if she had something to live for.

Nash nodded, aware that a steady, angry curiosity was building up inside of him as he listened to her explanation. "Where did you go?"

The vampire nodded her head dismissively. "Many places…Toran, Gregminster…Vinay del Zexay…and many more." She lowered her head with a distinct sadness as she went over the hundreds of cities and villages she had seen over the past seven years. "They were all grand, I suppose."

Now here was the paradox, Nash thought grimly as he observed her grieving eyes, and the guilty gesture upon her face: why had she left in the first place? He thought he understood her, but for the last seven years he had reflected on the mysterious occurrence—why had she done it? She had been happy with him, in her own way; every glance of her narrowed eyes, each coy kiss she placed against his cheek—these had been the things that communicated to him the fact that she was content. Then again, Sierra had always possessed an inherently strange disposition. So then why? He had to ask her…it was his right, after all. For seven years he had grieved their broken relationship, all the while striving to raise the very child they had created together. Yes…Sylvia. He had to tell Sierra what he learned about Sylvia…

But not until she answered his questions.

"Sierra," he began solemnly, looking over to her. She raised her head, anticipating his next move. "You know what I'm about to ask you…"

She nodded with a dull understanding. "Yes…I will tell you if you ask me."

He did not delay. "Then why? Why did you leave us like that? Not just me, but the little girl you gave birth to that very night…." his tone rose in intensity; conscious of his rising emotions, he lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. "I've been patient with you so far, old girl…but tell me. I've waited long enough for this."

His eyes seemed to bore into her soul; beneath the passionate azure orbs she could see the deep pain that had torn him apart for several years past. The anger…would she ever truly understand it? Her own pain, her regrets…could it be equal to his? Greater? It was definitely not less.

She had to tell him. Unsure of what to say, her mind blocked and thoughts disjointed, she began to speak.

"I am a selfish woman, Nash…you have always known this. Even when we became lovers you knew that I always put myself before others. Even when I grew to love you I would always think of myself before you—"

"You loved me?" he interjected, eyes widening. His face had taken on a critical tone now. "Tell me truthfully, Sierra…did you ever truly love me?"

Surprised by his sudden question, she looked at him with grieved eyes. He never knew…? But she had never told him…throwing aside all self-imposed restrictions, she realized she had nothing to lose.

"Yes…I did really love you," she whispered, a red tear forming at the base of her eyelashes. "As I still do."

He did not reply, and she quickly decided to move on. "I cannot really explain to you why I ran away that night," she said, bringing a pale hand up to her eyes. "I suppose I was thinking of many things. Firstly, I still could not believe that I was now a mother…that I had done the impossible, become a vampire who had given birth to a human child. A small part of myself did not want that responsibility…it had been so long since I had cared for another person that I had forgotten exactly how to care. In truth to leave was the last thing I desired…but that self-serving, cruel part of me prevailed that night. I acted upon this."

Her tears were flowing freely now; wiping them away with her hands, she continued. "There were other things as well…how could a newborn child have a vampire for a mother? A woman so jaded, so uncaring that I actually considered getting rid of her before she was born? How could I have lived with her, knowing that if it had not been for your intervention she might have been mere garbage, a small dead body lying in a trash heap, unloved…unwanted…all because of my own selfish desires…?"

Her eyes quickly darted to the closed door, the room in which the little girl lay. "She is the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed, the night she was born as well as now…you have been both mother and father to her, Nash. You have loved her and raised her, and nurtured her to be the child she is now…these are things I never could have done."

He suddenly placed a hand upon her shoulder, in support; grateful, she nodded, her teary face twisted with inner pain as she looked to him. "You should have had so much better, my boy…not I, an ancient woman who remains rooted in her old ways. You should marry, have a proper family with a young wife who will support you and care for you and Sylvia…I am but a careless, foolish woman.

"And so…those are the reasons, I suppose. The explanation for something I can never apologize for…" She raised her eyes to his, now; her ruby orbs met his azure spheres, and she quickly shifted her eyes away, to the cold stone floor beneath her. "I do not expect you to understand…but I would just like you to know one thing…" Her voice trailed as she willfully looked back to him, holding a steady gaze with his piercing eyes.

"That I have suffered more than you can know."

She stood up, gently taking his hand off her shoulder. With a heavy gait she slowly crossed the room, heading over to the small window that stood opposite the two beds. Leaning her hands against the sill, she sighed as she looked out at the cold, dark world, surely a reflection of the future she was to endure.

He rose, his cloaks rustling against his body as he came over to the window to join her. As he came up behind her, she realized it was the closest they had been to each other all evening; an odd feeling welled up in her heart as she peered over her shoulder, watching his ungloved hands wrap almost comfortingly around her shoulders.

"I can't forgive you for what you've done, Sierra," he whispered into her ear, his face dangerously close as her lithe body brushed up against his muscular frame. "I don't know if I really understand…maybe I do. But I'm not sure…" She turned around suddenly, and found her face only inches away from his. "But you have to understand that it was hard, old girl."

"I can only imagine," she answered. With a sudden involuntary movement she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck; he quickly pulled her into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist as she laid her head on his shoulder, the rapid beating of his heart audible as she brought a pale hand to his chest.

"Do you want me to tell you about Sylvia?" he asked, running his fingers through her silvery hair, pulling her body closer to his.

"Yes," she whispered into his ear, embracing him tightly. "Is she a normal child, Nash? Or a spirit of some sort…or…"

He shook his head as he gently ran his hands up and down the small of her back. "Sylvia is…something else, old girl. Look…I know that from here we don't really know where to go. But before we decide what to do…whether we part or whether we stay…" Her heart fluttered faintly as she listened to this statement "…I have to tell you what I learned about Sylvia."

"Yes," she murmured again, burying her face into his cloaked shoulder. "Please…you must tell me everything."

To be continued…

Ahhh…this is the first chapter of any fanfic I've written while I wasn't at home…I just finished my first week of college…it's actually been pretty good so far! I hope everyone finds this chapter satisfactory…it's another one of those connection chapters. I originally wanted it to be longer, but I didn't wanna be putting people to sleep! So please review and tell me what you thought of it! College is a little difficult for me to adjust to…but I'm sure I'll get used to it in time. Just need some encouragement right now, I think…

Eni Li'Nave: Hehe, well Nash didn't burn her _too _badly…but yeah, Sylvia does give Sierra a serious guilt trip. Hehe…she's quite a little lady. For an original character, I rather like her myself. As for roadbumps…well…I'll see what I can do!

celeste9: Thanks so much! I'm so glad everyone likes Sylvia! I didn't really know what to make of Nash when I played Suikoden III either, but he really is a very complex character when you learn more about him….oh, the things he's been through. Sierra even more so…

Next chapter: So what exactly _is _Sylvia? How was she conceived, and what of the rune on her hand? What does Nash know about her…and where did he learn it from? Stay tuned!


	16. Revelation

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Special note: In Nash's flashback, Sylvia is only four years old (as opposed to the present time, where she is seven).

Rebirth

Chapter 16: Revelation

by ArchFaith

With a quiet sigh he pulled back from her, his hands still gripping her slender shoulders with a tight, determined grasp. His lowered eyes slowly rose to meet her melancholy gaze; his expression held no trace of humor or lightheartedness. This was a serious matter, a wondrous and strange matter he would deal with now. What a night it had been; to think Sylvia was lost for good, to find out that his former lover had found her by chance, to sit and talk after seven years of isolation…and how he had to tell the tale. It was ironic, he mused, that he knew everything about the little girl when it had been Sierra who had carried and nourished the child in her body.

He breathed in once more before he spoke, his voice low and intimate. "I've never repeated this story to anybody," he whispered, his azure eyes locking into Sierra's ruby stare. "It happened such a long time ago…but I can remember it very clearly." At this his expression suddenly broke down; he gave her a small smile as he pulled the vampire into a light embrace. He could not risk any spies overhearing what exactly he was about to say; for, as much as he was favored and praised by the bishops, there was no telling when Sasarai would decide to check on him and his assignment.

He spoke into her ear now, his lips brushing against her hair as he absently ran a finger through the soft silvery strands. "Those first few months, Sierra…I didn't think about where she came from, or how you and I were able to conceive her. All I knew was that she was alive, and I needed to take care of her…and that she was mine. That I loved her." He closed his eyes as he remembered the first time she had been placed in his arms, a tiny, scared little bundle looking up at him with the bluest eyes he had ever seen. "It was so different from anything I had ever done before…you know me, old girl. My history…from an aristocrat to a mercenary, and anything in between. But a father? I never thought I'd see the day…" His voice trailed as Sierra gently placed a pale hand against his chest, right against his steadily beating heart.

"Yes," she whispered encouragingly. "Continue, Nash. I will be silent until you finish. But your heart…I have not heard it beat since…" She stopped, drumming her fingers against his chest as she gently rested her head against his shoulder. "But continue."

He closed his eyes as he felt the steady beating of his heart develop into a quickened, fast-paced hum. "Well…you get the picture, anyhow. I don't know how I managed to do it, but it happened. Somehow, we both survived, Sylvia and I. I took care of her, made sure she had enough to eat and clothes to wear...and everything was fine for a while. Every now and then I still wondered about her…her rune was still there, after all. It never faded; I make her wear gloves when she goes outside." The vampire gently nodded in understanding, recalling the gloves the girl had been so reluctant to remove in front of her.

"Things went well for such a long time," Nash continued, his voice wavering, "until…well, when she was four years old an old friend decided to pay us a visit."

"Old friend?" the vampire whispered inquiringly. "Who?"

"Let's just say the whole thing came as a huge revelation. A revelation of Sylvia's origin…and our story, yours and mine, as well."

-

_He dreamt of the last time he had seen her face; her pale, haughty visage, the eyes that had shown no remorse as they coldly stared at the tiny bundle in his arms._

"Dad?"

_For the last four years he had not been able to stop thinking about her—of running his fingers through her silvery hair; of placing his tanned hand against her pale cheek; of kissing her soft lips…_

"Dad…"

_And even though she had done the unthinkable—even though she had abandoned them—it was impossible to erase her memory from his thoughts. And as hard as he tried to do so…every time he glanced at the child in his arms he was always reminded of the one he had lost…_

"Dad!"

With a sudden flash of azure Nash sat up in bed, half-surprised as he looked around in expectation, the warm sheets sliding against his body as he propped himself up against the mattress, his eyes straining to adjust to the dim light of the moon against the flowing curtains.

"Sylvia?" he asked cautiously, bringing a hand up to his face, rubbing his tired eyes as he glanced towards the foot of his bed, aware now of the added weight against the soft mattress.

The small form slowly advanced, crawling towards him as it slowly came into the half-light. It was her—the girl. Sylvia. The azure eyes were his, even Sierra had admitted that; and the platinum blonde head of hair was a cross between Nash's dark blonde strands and Sierra's silvery locks. But the contours of her face—the shape of her cheeks, her forehead, her chin—this all belonged to Sierra. Bestowed upon her by a mother who never even held her…who never even desired to hold her when she was born…

It was as if the little girl could read his mind; as his eyes adjusted to the dark room, he could slowly discern a look of distress carved into her delicate features. Her azure eyes were narrowed, and her lips were set into a pout; she looked increasingly upset as she drew nearer to him, her small arms painfully white-looking against her small pink nightgown.

Within a moment she was in his lap, burying her wavy head against his chest as he brought his arms around her in confusion. "Sylvia…what's wrong, little one?" he asked, hugging the girl tight to him. Eyes still heavy with sleep, he blinked as he looked down at her blonde head. "Did you have a bad dream? You can sleep with me if you want…"

In a fashion befitting a little girl, Sylvia looked up at him and frowned, creases marring her smooth forehead. "I…I don't feel good," she whispered, snuggling deeper into Nash's warm lap. "I feel sick."

Frowning, the blonde swordsman lifted a cautious hand to the girl's forehead as she closed her eyes, leaning against him as he placed his other arm around her. "Gods," he whispered, feeling the immediate flash of hotness that had presently settled upon the child's head. "You're burning up…"

"Mmmm," the girl moaned, scrunching her tiny fingers into balls as she continued to bury her face into Nash's muscular shoulder. "I feel really bad," she repeated, in typical child's manner.

The swordsman looked down at her with a sympathetic expression upon his face. Surely this was not the first time Sylvia had come down with a fever; usually once or twice each month she would come to him in the middle of the night, groaning and complaining about some kind of slight illness. It was nothing much to worry about; he had handled things like this before. And he would handle them again.

With a sigh, he gently gathered the girl in his arms as he drew back the beige sheets from his prone form. "Don't worry kid," he whispered in soothing tones, down into her ear. "You just have a little fever, that's all."

"But I didn't do anything bad!" the child protested, her head still nestled against her father's breastbone. "I did everything you said I should, Dad…"

"It's not your fault, Sylvie," he answered, swinging his legs off the bed and down onto the floor below. "Sometimes people just get sick for no reason." The poor child, he mused, as he gently stood, pulling the little girl closer so as not to drop her. Children, it seemed, always blamed themselves for happenings that were not at all their fault. It had been his experience so far, and with Sylvia it would probably continue even when she was a bit older. Sighing, he quickly wondered if Sylvia also blamed herself for the absence of her mother; every now and then he found himself cornered by her innocent questions, her inquiries about her mother and how exactly it was that she had been born. _Were you married to her? _she would ask, her wavy blonde hair gently ruffled by the wind as they walked, hand in hand, through the bustling Calerian marketplace. _Was she beautiful? _she questioned, looking up at him across the small table set for a quick dinner. _Did she love us? _

Sighing, he quickly set his mind back to the matter at hand. Medicine…well, there was plenty of that in the pantry, in the storage boxes set aside for such as an event as the illness of a little girl. Though she felt some discomfort now, Sylvia would be fine in a few hours; it always came to that. Generally, she was a healthy child, athletic and intelligent; sickness only came very occasionally to her small body. She would be fine.

Giving her a comforting pat on the back, he gently rose and walked through the open doorway of the bedroom, Sylvia clutching at his loose white shirt. His bare feet padded against the cold floor of the living room, the hems of his loose brown pants trailing against the stones. He gingerly set the little girl down on the large couch, making sure to set a thick pillow under her blonde head. "Don't worry," he said, patting her head gently. "I'll make you something to eat, then we'll give you some medicine. You'll be okay in no time flat, hm?"

Sylvia sighed, pouting her lips in a gesture that suddenly caused Nash to think of Sierra's pouting, displeased expression; though, instead of complaining and acting haughty as her mother was certainly fond of doing, she merely shifted onto her side, squeezing her eyes shut. "Okay," she agreed, tucking her small hands under her head.

Nash tapped her cheek affectionately, his expression growing more serious as he looked down at the small child. His dear Sylvia…the only thing that had ever really belonged to him. She relied and depended upon him for everything—warmth, shelter. Love. The one person he would give up his life to save…the only one…

_Every time I look at her I think of you, old girl. _

With a quick sigh, he stood up from his kneeling position on the floor. She needed to eat something; the herbal medicine would not cure her as well if she did not have any nourishment in her body. Something light would do…maybe some hot Harmonian soup would serve to calm her insides and help the medicine go down more easily. He briskly walked into the kitchen, turning on one of the old oil lamps perched on a low shelf. Mentally recalling the memory from his early childhood, he recited the recipe in his mind as he opened a large wooden drawer. Reaching his hand inside, he quickly felt around for the vegetables buried underneath the rough bags of grain and millet…they should have been somewhere in there…

"Dad…" Sylvia called again faintly, from her comatose spot on the couch. "Nashie…"

"Hold on, Sylvie," he called back as he triumphantly pulled out an orange handful of carrots. "The soup should be ready in about twenty minutes…"

She coughed minutely. "No, that's not it," she sighed. "Didn't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"There's someone at the door."

Paying her no heed, he continued digging around for the necessary ingredients inside the drawer. "Don't be silly, kid. Why would there be anyone at the door at this hour?"

He expected the conversation to end at that, but Sylvia apparently thought otherwise; she stubbornly sat up from her place on the couch, azure eyes gleaming with determination as she eyed the busy figure of her father in the kitchen. "Dad…there really is somebody."

"I told you, Sylvie…there's no one there. Who would come looking for us so late at night?" Nash answered, finally locating the tall green stalks he had been searching for. Reaching into the shallow darkness, he pulled out the vegetables as Sylvia narrowed her eyes.

"She really wants to speak to you, Nashie."

"_She_?" At this the blonde swordsman spun around, still gripping the handful of greens between his fingers. "What are you talking about?"

"The woman at the door," Sylvia answered, crossing her arms over her chest as she sank back down into the soft cushions. Sick as she was, she would not be unheard; the attitudes and strategies of her mother were apparent in her behavior as she looked him straight in the eye. "She says she really wants to talk to you."

A rapidly building sense of anticipation had settled itself in Nash's stomach as he slowly laid the greens down on the small wooden kitchen table. A woman…at the door? Impossible…he quickly ran through the list of women who visited him often; there was Sylvia's caretaker, the old woman Joker knew as a child who looked after Sylvia when Nash was away—no. Why would she call on them in the middle of the night? Old as she was, she was amazingly healthy for her age…if she were ill, she was sure to call Joker first, before him. Mio, the kind-hearted nurse who now and then came with her doctor friend to check up on Sylvia? But a night visit…that idea was just stupid. The blonde swordsman sighed as he walked swiftly out of the kitchen, reviewing the list of people it could have been. Lena and Yulie? But they only visited once a year…and their last visit had been only two months before. There had been a few women from the unit whom he had briefly been involved with, but those relationships meant nothing, really; they were just girls who were looking to have fun.

As he crossed the room he suddenly felt his stomach flutter uncontrollably; the sudden hope burst through his system, making his heart beat faster as he reached for the doorknob. _She _would not dare to come back; would she? Impossible, he kept reminding himself as he turned the metal knob in his hand, hearing the mechanical click of the lock. In the split second before he flung open the door, he found himself praying that it was indeed the familiar silver-haired vampire he had known so long ago; even if she had abandoned them, he would be so relieved to see her that he would allow her to explain before pointing an accusatory finger. Yet…at the same time he found himself hoping that it was anyone _but _her waiting at the door; relieved as he would be to see her, he was sure the anger would well up inside him before she could say a single word…

He opened the door.

-

A glint of silver.

One little glimpse of the grayish color and he flung open the door in expectation. What greeted him, however, was a person very different than the one he had anticipated.

Silver hair, yes. It was long, tied up in a high ponytail, and reached down to the tall woman's shapely hips. She was clad entirely in black, in a serpentine dress that was held onto her voluptuous body with thin black straps. A high slit starting at her thigh gave him an ample glimpse of her slender legs, and her arms were swathed in long, dramatic opera gloves. Her blue eyes gleamed with an almost seductive edge as he placed one hand on her hip, smooth lips stretched into a knowing smile.

"Jeane!"

"Hello Nash," she said softly, cocking her head. "It's been such a long time." Peering sideways into the living room behind him, she quickly caught sight of the curious Sylvia, who was craning her neck to see who it was at the door. "Quickly," the mage whispered. "You should act like you know me…it's in her best interest."

"What the hell are you doing here!" Nash shot back, unable to restrain his emotion. He had been building up his thoughts for the wrong person, indeed; he could not lie to himself now.

_Sierra._

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, in a softer tone of voice. No matter how surprising this visit was, Jeane was right; if Sylvia suspected that Nash had been waiting for someone else, it would only further arouse her childish interest. He could not have that.

Jeane cocked her head and smiled, crossing her arms over her ample chest as she leaned against the doorframe. "I'm here in Caleria on business, Nash…why, is there a rule stating that a simple little rune mage can't come by to see her old friend?"

She turned away from the swordsman's quizzical expression to eye the little girl sitting up on the couch. "And I think I know who this is," she said, grinning, as she slithered past Nash into the living room. "What a sweet little girl," she cooed, kneeling down next to the couch. She looked straight into the girl's azure eyes and smiled sweetly. "What's your name, darling?"

"Sylvia," the girl answered without hesitation.

"Sylvia, hm? You look so much like your mother, dear."

"My mother? Did you know her?"

"Jeane," Nash said warningly, finally gaining a grip on himself. He had been so expectant to find Sierra at the door that Jeane's presence had sent him into a temporary shock; shaking himself out of it, he quickly reminded himself that even though Jeane could be considered an old ally, her sudden appearance might not be a friendly gesture. He crossed the room swiftly and placed a hand on the mage's shoulder. "What are you doing here?" he repeated, his voice low, his tone slightly more harsh than he would have liked it to be.

The mage had placed a gloved hand against the girl's hot forehead. "Tsk tsk tsk," she mumbled deprecatingly. "What are you doing to this child, Nash? She needs a mix of Karayan spider herb and Outland redgrass. That's the best way to cure a fever."

"I was going to give her an old Harmonian recipe," the swordsman replied, scowling. He noted that the mage had dodged his question yet again; but he couldn't display overt anger or confusion in front of Sylvia. "You haven't answered my question."

Shaking her head, the rune mage gracefully rose, placing her hands on her hips. "I just need to speak with you, that's all," she said simply, turning to face him. "I have some important information I think you might want to know about."

"Information about what?" Nash asked, his voice rising. "Is this about…?"

"Sort of," Jeane replied, cocking her head. "Look…is there somewhere we can speak alone?"

"Hey…what's going on?" Sylvia asked, looking up at them in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

_Dammit,_ Nash thought as he looked down at her. Whatever Jeane had to say, Sylvia could not possibly be exposed to it…

"Technical things, Sylvie," he said, giving her a pat on the forehead. "Jeane here is an old friend of mine…she came to talk to me about some papers concerning the recent uprising in Le Buque. Interesting, isn't it?"

Reverse psychology did have its advantages; the child's face dropped as a seemingly exotic new playmate turned into just another one of her father's colleagues. "Oh…alright," she answered indifferently, falling back down against the soft cushions. She crossed her arms in disappointment as Jeane gave her a smile.

"Sorry, darling," she said, giving Sylvia a pat on the head. "I'm afraid I'm not much fun for you."

"It's okay," Sylvia said faintly, frowning. "Dad," she moaned, "I still feel sick…"

Apparently the sight of a new, exciting presence had caused her to momentarily forget her fever; now that her illusions of fun had been destroyed, she quickly slipped back into her illness. Shaking his head matter-of-factly, Nash went to her and lightly touched her warm cheek. "Yeah, yeah," he whispered. "Just wait a few minutes, kid. Try to get some sleep while I make something for you."

He turned back to the mage, who stood there with her arms positioned innocently on her hips. "Would you like me to help you make something for her?" she offered, smiling. "I'd be delighted, you know."

Raising a suspicious brow, he nodded; soon he found himself leading her into the small kitchen, her high-heeled shoes scraping against the stone floor of the pantry as he led her over to the small stove, bare except for a single cooking pot. The silver-haired woman looked around inquisitively; folding her arms behind her back, she gave Nash a demure look before leaning up against the wall by the stove.

"Let me explain myself," she said calmly, a smile still upon her face. "I know you're confused. And I know that it wasn't me you were expecting to see when you opened that door."

"You're damn right," he spat out, unable to contain his anger any longer. "Why the hell are you here, Jeane?"

She sighed; it was a long, whispered sigh that seemed to bounce against the walls of the small abode, seemingly preparing the atmosphere for her words. Whatever was to follow would certainly be something of great interest; as much as he doubted the mage's intentions, he could not help but feel that she was somehow on his side.

"I heard the rumors," she whispered, momentarily looking back into the living room to make sure the little girl was not listening. "That the pale, silver-haired woman was gone…and that she left you with a child."

He nodded. "So what? What business is that of yours?"

"Surely she told you about my interest in her and the child's well-being."

He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes as he looked to her. "She told me about your affair during the war…and your proposition to her when she was pregnant."

A look of surprise momentarily crossed Jeane's face; in an instant it was gone, replaced by a suddenly nervous-looking smile. "Then that means she left us, both, doesn't it?" she asked, her tone remaining even. "But I haven't come here to waste your time, Nash Latkje….I came here because I want to tell you about the child."

"Sylvia?" the swordsman asked incredulously. "What do you mean, to tell me about her? What could you possibly know about her that I don't? She's lived with me all these years...the first time you even met her was a few minutes ago..."

Jeane chuckled, delicately bringing a white gloved hand to her lips. "I've never been one to arouse a father's scorn," she whispered. "But it is true…you know her better than I do, in terms of her temperament, her behavior, her likes and dislikes…you are, after all, her father." At this she leaned forward slowly, her heavy lashes dark against her light-colored eyes. "But you don't know her secrets, Nash…she's a very special little girl, you know. It's a good thing you decided to keep her after Sierra took off…"

"What are you trying to say, Jeane?" he asked, his voice low. "Are you trying to tell me…?"

She nodded. "Yes. I know more about Sylvia's origins that you have ever dared to research."

He felt a dull surprise, swirling inside him like a nervous gust of wind, wishing to be free yet refusing to break away. "How did you find this out?"

"A mage has plenty of resources available to her," she answered, smoothing a strand of silver out of her eyes. "Now," she continued, coming closer to him, her gloved hands clutching his shoulders as she pulled him into a half-embrace. "Will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Yes," he whispered, before reason could tell him to stop. "Go ahead."

She placed her mouth against his ear, his lips brushing against his earlobe as she whispered, slowly and clearly, her voice low as the gentle sound seemed to flow into his brain.

"When Sierra came to me and told me that she was pregnant, I myself couldn't believe it. Now, I've seen many things, Nash, unimaginable things…improbable events, great mysteries, all sorts of strange things. But a pregnant vampire? Impossible…of course, you were probably thinking the same thing when you learned about it." He felt her lips smooth against the bridge of his ear; she was smiling. "Oh, my Sierra…I never did know what exactly she saw in you, past your pretty boy looks. But nevertheless, she did see something in you; and so naturally, you became lovers. And out of your union came a child.

"I know all this because, of course, she told me about it when you two happened upon my shop four years ago. But after all was said and done…after she chose you over me….I knew that I wouldn't be able to rest until I knew why she was pregnant, and what sort of magic brought it about. So I researched…mountains upon mountains of scrolls, texts, ancient manuscripts…I must have read thousands. After a few months I closed up shop in Caleria and moved eastward, determined to find what I was looking for. I needed to know; I'm a very old woman, Nash, and I probably know more than all the libraries and archives of the world combined. But this was something I didn't know, and something I ached to find out...why my former lover had been impregnated when such a feat is impossible by the laws of nature…

"And I found it…there, buried under rotting piles of paper in an old cavern, so encased in grime that I had to soak it in cleaning acid before I could properly interpret it. But I found it…and you'll want to know it. I'm sure."

"What is it?" he asked breathlessly, suddenly grasping her shoulders; her narrative had drawn him into a deep reverie, and he broke out of it with an astonishing grasp about what he was about to hear: the truth about his own daughter, facts long awaited and wondered about, a story he had never been able to find. He suddenly pulled her nearer, eyes widened in curiosity, his hands tightening around her gloved arms. "Tell me. Go on."

Jeane sighed, slowly opening and closing her eyes as she looked up to him once again. "The scrolls were runic legends…ancient manuscripts that foretell the future of the world, and the future of the true rune bearers. There was a legend I discovered that exactly fit Sierra's condition…I have no doubt that the prophecy has been fulfilled in Sylvia's birth.

"The legend says that there will come a time when a true rune bearer will be selected among the multitudes, a young soul whose life will be cruelly taken from her, and her duty to the rune will begin in a torrent of death and grief.

"For hundreds of years, she will wander the lands, forlorn but still determined, gaining power and mystery as many come to know of her existence. Still, her time will be spent in loneliness and longing…longing for the mortal life that she could have once had.

"This longing will manifest itself inside her…it will take form and develop into a being almost separate from her, a new soul created from the distress and misery within her, kindled into being by the power of her true rune.

"The rune-created soul will stay within her for hundreds of years more, attached to her body until she meets someone who will show her kindness, someone who will give her the peace and solitude she has wished for for so many years….you, Nash."

A sudden tear traced its way down Nash's tanned cheek; his throat grew tight, and he felt as if his lungs would collapse at any second with the weight of these new revelations being imparted upon him. Gathering his strength, he took a deep breath as Jeane watched him, her expression grave and serious. "Go on," he whispered with a deep sigh. "Go on."

"And when she comes into union with him—when their bodies know the peace of unity—this other soul inside her will come into flesh form, guided by the wishes of the rune-bearer and the hope of the one who loves her. This rune-created soul is itself a rune—it is the only time in history a child will be born with a rune.

"This child—your child—is a rune bearer, Nash. A bearer of the rune of—"

-

"Ah!"

The horrified gasp escaped her lips; the shaking vampire almost fell into the swordsman's arms, her trembling hands gripping his arms for support as the bloody tears quickly formed around her ruby eyes, pooling against her lashes as she felt her stomach wrench, her mouth forming into a terrified expression as Nash gently pressed her against him.

"Be strong, old girl," he whispered, stroking her silvery hair as she let the tears flow, staining the shoulder of his green cloak as she squeezed his arms in alarm. "You don't need to suffer any longer."

"Which rune does she bear, Nash?" the vampire asked, her voice a tiny whisper as she forced herself to look at him. "Which rune?"

He looked into Sierra's pained ruby eyes; gently, he leaned forward, giving her a kiss on the forehead as he embraced her, tucking her head under his neck.

"Sylvia bears the True Rune of—"

She felt her dead heart pounding, her legs shaking as the sentence filtered through her troubled heart.

_"Rebirth."_

To be continued…

End notes: Can you believe it? I haven't updated since September…man, college ate up so much of my time since then. I've been doing soo many things…when it's not school work it's working in my little office job, when it's not my office job it's fencing or exercising, and when it's none of those, I'm handling the affairs of my anime club, to whom I was elected vice president!

I've also debuted my Sierra costume at Katsucon, and I'm planning to wear it at Anime Boston and Otakon this year. Pictures can be found at the link to my cosplay site in my profile….I'd appreciate it if you all told me what you think of me dressed up as everyone's favorite sarcastic vampire, Sierra.

I've also gotten a new boyfriend since school started…we fight a fair bit, but we can't go without each other. So here's to my new Nashie :) And here's to summer, and more time to write and finish this story!

Eni Li'Nave: Yup, Nash's "insider knowledge" really helps out when he hits the stock market in Caleria…Sylvia sure is a little lady luck!

by.ur.side :Thanks so much for all your kind words! I hope I've reached my goal—my goal being to write a story that I think properly satisfies the definitive Nash/Sierra story. Glad my writing keeps you awake.

PsychoLeopard: Suspense and melodrama…what every good story needs to survive!

celeste9: Hehe, you were right…college is a lot of fun once everything settles down. It's good to know that I have a second home to go to.

Atriedes: Well, here's the chappie…hope it satisfied you!

Next chapter: Now that Sierra knows why Sylvia was born to her and Nash, will she leave them once again? And can Nash—and Sylvia—forgive her for the pain she caused them? Stay tuned!


	17. Foundation and Epilogue

Disclaimer: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Rebirth

Chapter 17: Foundation

and

Epilogue

by ArchFaith

_Rebirth._

_Sylvia._

"No," she whispered, her tears flowing freely as she buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, her hands forming fists against his chest as her mind contorted in mental agony. "Nash…Sylvia…how could I have…?"

The Rune of Rebirth…one of the lost twenty-seven true runes of destiny, a power of immeasurable force…a strength that could manipulate thousands, or save thousands more. A rune that she had held within her for the duration of her long, lonely existence as a rune-created vampire…a power that could only manifest itself in the form of…of…

_A child._

A vivid image suddenly returned to her—that of the tiny baby she had given birth to, so small she could barely fit in her father's arms. So weak and innocent…such azure eyes, like Nash. The tiny hands and fingers; the gentle grasp of the baby's hand against hers…the sudden feelings, deep beneath her heart, as they rushed to the surface—the image of Nash sinking to the dusty earthen ground, crying out to her in pain as she rushed away into the night…the blood tears snaking their way down her cheek…

"What have I done to you, my boy?" she asked, her voice cracking as another wave of anguish rolled into her, filling her with the horrible knowledge of truth. "What have I done…ah…"

He automatically brought a hand up to the nape of her neck, smoothing her soft silvery hair as he pulled her closer, tears beginning to pool against his eyelids. "You left me behind, Sierra…" he whispered into the moonlight. "Old girl," he continued, his voice trembling, "I believe what Jeane told me…she gave me her word that it was the truth. She even gave me the pages she took from the tome…I translated them myself. What she said is true."

The vampire nodded, grasping his shoulder for support. "Rebirth…" she whispered, bringing a delicate hand up to his cheek. "To think that I, such a broken, cruel woman, could carry within me such a power as a rune…to think that my soul could long so much for love that a child could be conceived out of that longing…"

He took her by the shoulders now, staring into her ruby eyes. "She is ours together, Sierra…you and I created her. Not out of lust, or desire, or accident…out of—"

"Love," she said, finishing his sentence for him. She raised a tentative hand to his forehead, smoothed the blonde hair out of his eyes as a tear traced its way down her cheek. "I think I understand now, Nash…how such a thing has happened to us. How…how our daughter was born. A fantastic explanation, indeed…but I believe in it. Still…it is all very shocking to me…you understand."

He nodded. "Yes…as it was to me as well." She felt his hands smoothing her silvery hair against her head. He smiled weakly, only a shadow of his usual cheerful grin. "I just wish you had been around to hear it, old girl."

She lowered her head, breathing in the coarse fumes of shame which seemed to emanate from the floorboards of the small room. "So do I."

He did not respond, but keep his hand firmly set against the nape of her neck, threading his fingers reflectively through her hair as they stood facing each other in the moonlight. She lifted her eyes to his; ruby met azure as they had so many, many times before. She remembered the first time she had ever seen him; in a small, non-descript town in the countryside, sitting across from her, his hands roving over a table strewn with all kinds of maps and notes. His search for a True Rune, the ill-fated mission ending with Rean's vampiric death…Nash had been so young then…

Ruby eyes…so dark and cruel. And yet…sad. Even when he first met her he knew that her coldness and haughtiness seemed to be clever disguises to her true feelings. After he saved her from Rean, she left him for her own missions; her only goodbye were two painful puncture marks near his collarbone. Good riddance, he had thought…yet, months after he had settled down in Caleria, he was overjoyed to see her once again. Sierra. _My Sierra._

"Am I still yours, Nash?" she asked. He cocked his head; very rarely did Sierra ever exert any efforts with her mental capabilities. She did not like listening in to other people's thoughts and memories; eight hundred years of life had taught her that her she had enough to deal with. Here was a brief exception; she had attuned herself to him, and was now listening for an answer.

"To answer that," he began, a sad smile playing on his lips. "I would need to know if I'm still your Nash. And if," he whispered, pulling her closer, "she is _our _Sylvia."

She turned her head slightly, resting her silver strands against his cheek as she pulled him closer to him, struggling to come to terms with the tremendous question posed to her. _Her _Nash…_their _Sylvia. So strange to think of it…that she could finally be happy, that she could finally come home to the family she had created and abandoned so many years ago.

But how did it come to pass that she should receive this honor, when she had been the source of all the misery so long ago? Her own loneliness, Nash's incredible longing, Sylvia's ignorance of her own mother…how could she possibly return to them when she had caused them such grief and heartache? How could she mend the broken threads that separated them? What would she tell Sylvia? Nash…would he really give her another chance…would he—

"Forgive," she whispered, in a sudden rush of emotion. Her face contorted into shame; she opened her eyes now, her lithe body shaking as she nearly fell into his arms. He did not hesitate; he immediately enfolded her against him, felt her heart beating rapidly against his own.

She was trembling uncontrollably; a sudden pounding started to resound in her mind, a high thrum against her soul as she sank to the floor, unable to sustain her own balance as she fell to her knees. In a moment he was kneeling next to her, arms tight around her as she squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep the bloody tears from spreading. How could she ask him? What made her think that one sad little question could take back the pain and suffering she had caused him for so many years? How could she ask him now, after so much time had gone by?

But no…a small voice inside her told her to press on. Perhaps there was a small chance, a tiny sliver of hope that all could be mended anew.

_I love him._

"Forgive…" she repeated, unable to even pronounce the word correctly as she looked up into his deep azure eyes. He stared steadily back at her, and with his wordless encouragement she whispered:

"Forgive me."

The pride…the selfishness…the anger…all had seemingly melted out of her system, clearing her mind and allowing her to fully communicate how she felt. She pulled him closer to her, letting his presence flood her mind, embracing and welcoming the warm feelings it brought.

"Please…forgive me. I will make amends…I promise."

The swirling abyss of emotions suddenly collapsed—in a wild rush of passion, she grimaced as the red tears slowly wound their way down her face.

He knelt next to her, arms wrapped around her as he gently pulled her head against the side of his neck. Gods…how she had suffered. His curse of years before, shouted against the night sky as she fled Caleria, had turned out to be more powerful than he had ever imagined. Her grief, her anguish—it filtered through her body and into his, as if they were somehow connected…as if he could feel her emotions. The shame…the confusion. And the sorrow, the deep, darkening realm of sorrow that had become her home for seven years.

Forgiveness…a gift. But how could he possibly forgive her now? Seven years after the fact…seven years that could have been spent in happiness and love? She had stolen them from him and Sylvia…she had abandoned them, had not even once held the child she had given birth to. In all that time, she could have come back to them of her own accord…but as it was, only a chance meeting in the middle of the woods had led them to this reunion now. If she had come back to him willingly he might have been able to forgive her—he might have. But as things stood now…he could never do it. He could never…

He closed his eyes, tears pooling at the base of his lashes as he embraced her, smoothing her silver hair as she continued to sob against him.

"Forgive me, Nash…I beg of you, forgive me of all the things I have done to you and to Sylvia. If you wish me to leave, I will go, and you will never hear from me again…but please…forgive…forgive me…"

In absolute shame she brought her hand to her eyes, trying to ease the flow of tears; he saw her gesture and brought his hand up, catching her pale fingers and entwining them in his own. Still gently sobbing, she brought her ruby eyes up to peer into his deep azure eyes.

"It shouldn't be this easy, Sierra," he whispered simply, bringing his hand up to her bloodstained cheek. "For all the pain you've caused me….leaving me twice, the first time before you even knew you were pregnant, and the second time after you gave birth to our daughter…I should never want to even so much as look at you ever again." A single tear traced its way down his tanned cheek; with a heavy sigh he continued. "It isn't right that I should let you back into our life, old girl…you know that."

She nodded, her head limply resting against his muscular shoulder as she found herself clinging to him, trembling with every last nerve in her body, readying herself for the tremendous letdown she was sure would follow. Of course he would ask her to leave, never to come within one hundred paces of himself or Sylvia ever again…she had hoped for too much. There would be no redemption for the ruby-eyed demon who had cruelly abandoned her lover and newborn child. There would be unending sadness, despair…loneliness.

It was almost as if he could feel the dreaded sentiment emanating from her torn soul; to her surprise, he gently ran his fingers up and down her back, lightly drumming against her spine as he continued.

"I…I love you, Sierra. For all these years…all these years you and I have been separated…I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Even after what you did to us…I could never forget what you and had…together." He closed his eyes momentarily, recalling the hope they once shared, an optimism that had long since died away. "But you have to understand…I can never forgive you for what you did to me. And to her."

She nodded, the dull shock washing over like a tidal wave against a rocky shore. "I know," she answered simply. "I know." She looked up at him again, gently folding her hands against her chest. "I know you wish me to leave, Nash…and so I will take my leave of you now. I am sure there was some kind of providence at work here…tonight. I was able to save Sylvia's life…I was able to give her life again, in a way. I do not think it was a coincidence that we all came to be here this night…you, me, and her. And I wish to thank you, Nash, for all that you have done for her…you have done all the things I could never do." She slowly stood, standing up shakily as she gently wiped the dust that had gathered on her skirt. "Please…tell her goodbye for me," she whispered, turning away from him.

She quietly stepped towards the door as he rose, watching her as her pale hand reached for the brass doorknob. In one more moment she would be gone again—permanently this time. Coincidence or not, it was impossible that she would ever see him again; she would be gone, wandering through the world once again. And that would be it. Their little reunion was over.

And it would be the last reunion they would ever have.

As her fingers closed around the knob, a small prayer sprang up in her mind; an old prayer she had uttered since she had been a small girl. It was a prayer of thanks, and she slowly thought over it as she gently pried the door open. Thanks for being able to see that the daughter she had given birth to was happy and loved; thanks for seeing that the man she loved had loved her once, a long time ago.

And even if there were to be no happy endings…even if she could not turn back time and relive her life over again…these things were a small solitude to her. Her only solitude now…forever and ever, as long as she wandered the earth.

(-)

"You aren't going anywhere, Sierra…"

Halfway out the door, she turned to face him. He stood there simply, a warm expression forming on his face as he gave her a small smile.

"…unless you take me with you."

In a moment she flew across the room, her feet barely touching the wooden floorboards as she threw her arms around him. Somehow, her lips found his; standing on tiptoe to reach him, their souls reunited as they shared their first kiss in nearly seven years. And in that small space of an instant, in the live-giving embrace—a promise was made. One promise.

_Where you go, I will follow. Always._

"Sierra," he whispered, sighing as they broke the kiss, feeling the passionate warmth engulf their bodies for the first time in so many years. "Oh gods, Sierra…I missed you. I…can't express how much I wanted you to be with us…"

"As do I," she answered, placing a pale hand against the back of his neck. "But I am here now, Nash…and I will not leave you again. Ever again," she repeated, embracing him. "I will make amends…I promise."

They embraced as the rest of the troubled world faded around them, leaving only themselves, the room, and the restful moonlight behind.

(-)

The small door leading to Sylvia's room had opened slightly; in the darkened crack of light, a small face appeared, surveying the embracing figures with interest and warmth.

_I knew it,_ the little girl thought, smiling as she witnessed the sudden smile on Nash's face, the apparent relief in Sierra's gestures. _I knew this was meant to happen. Ever since I was born I knew that he would find her. _She looked down at the rune engraved onto her hand, running her fingers over it thoughtfully as glanced up at the two figures in the other room. _From the moment I was conceived I felt her sorrow…his love…the anger within both of them. I felt it within me. _

The little girl could feel her own heart pounding, suddenly; bringing a small hand up to her cheek, she realized that she too had tears running down her face. Having watched the whole exchange discreetly from her room, the effects of the reunion had run their full course on her.

_I formed within her so many years ago, and for so long I wondered if she would ever find solace…yet she found it, in him. For that reason I was born. I know so much more than they think I am capable of knowingf._

Slowly pushing open the door, she stood framed in the doorway, watching her mother and father embrace against the windowsill, bathed in moonlight.

_Nash and Sierra need each other…and I need them both, as they need me. I am their Rebirth._

She quickly scampered over to them, looking up at them as they broke away from each other. Nash's eyes widened in surprise, no doubt wondering if she had heard their entire conversation; Sierra, however, had another thought in mind.

In just an instant she had knelt down next to the girl, and gently placed her arms around her, embracing her for the first time. An embrace that should have been given nearly seven years ago, debts long overdue. A smile formed on Sylvia's angelic face as the vampire pulled her close, burying her soft blonde head against Sierra's thin shoulder. In another second Nash was on the floor next to them, enfolding both of them in a strong, peaceful embrace.

"Hi Mom," she whispered lightly, smiling up at her mother momentarily. "I knew I would meet you one day."

(-)

Epilogue

The sun hung placidly over the vast mountains, peeking out from beneath a fixture of persistent clouds; the deep red of the sunset cast a surreal glow through the still-bustling streets of Caleria, the sight mysterious and warm all at the same time.

She hesitated for just one moment; it had been so long since she had seen the desert city, the jewel of trade. She had almost erased all memories of the town from her mind; memories of the warm sun making shadows against her face as she walked, memories of the palm trees swaying in the thick breeze. And memories of the small brick house, and the knowing azure eyes that would greet her each time she stepped into the doorway…

Perhaps these memories would build themselves once again.

"Don't be scared, Mom," the little girl whispered, pressing her small hand into the vampire's pale fingers. "You'll like where we live! Promise."

The blonde swordsman's eyes met her own, and he flashed a gentle smile. "Let's go. Lead the way, Sylvia."

They passed through the marketplace, past the empty stalls of merchants, the refuse of the day's trade. Though she half-heartedly argued with the blonde swordsman, the vampire could not help but gain a small, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. It seemed too good to be true; just over a week ago she had been trudging miserably in some godforsaken forest, bemoaning her wasted existence; now here she was, with the two people she loved most in the world. It could only be a dream…it could not be real. And even if it were true, and there was to be a happy ending after all, she would probably find some way to cheat herself out of this paradise. Some way…

"Are you alright?" Nash asked, his gloved hand reaching for her own. In one moment his hand had closed around hers; and in that second she knew she was going to be alright.

"Yes," she answered truthfully, smiling back at him, "never felt better."

_It will not be easy at first…this much I know. But I have been given a second chance…or a third chance, perhaps. And he is willing to try. And, by the gods, I will try, as well._

"Let's go home," she whispered softly, her ruby eyes gleaming with a hopeful sort of light. "You and I and Sylvia…we have had a long journey."

The swordsman nodded, the sun glinting against his azure eyes as he gave her a thoughtful smile.

_The journey might be over; but the adventure is still to come._

_I love you._

The End

End notes: Well, here it is. One year and four months after I decided to start writing this monster of a story, it is finally completed! Let this story stand forever as a testament to my love of Nash/Sierra fanfics…I consider it my fanfiction masterpiece! This story has broken so many of my previous records…it's my longest story (55,000+ words, as compared to my second longest story, with 26,000 words!). It also has the most chapters (17) and the most reviews (69) out of all my stories. Also, I have this dreadful penchant for not finishing stories…you betcha I'm glad I was able to finish this one!

As a side note…I'm also a cosplayer, and I have a Sierra outfit that I've worn to Katsucon 2006 and Anime Boston 2006…I'm also going to be wearing it to Otakon 2006 next week, along with a plush Nash doll I made! The link to my cosplay page is in my profile…yes, I am that obsessed!

Shoutouts:

by.ur.side: Thanks for sticking by me and giving me helpful reviews all this time! I'm very glad you thought the dialogue was fluid and in-character...I worked very hard on it before I put up the final draft! Thanks for all your help!

kissbyachainsaw: Heehee, thanks! I worked hard on my Sierra costume—it's handsewn since I didn't have a sewing machine until early this year.

Nylza: Well, this is the ending! Hope I satisfied you!

PsychoLeopard: The Rune of Rebirth is something I made up…it doesn't really exist in the Suikoverse. Though, it would be awesome if a new Suikoden game with a rune called "Rebirth" as one of its main runes!

And shoutouts to everybody else that has reviewed thus far! Thank you all so much for your support!

Well folks, time goes on. Iam now playing Suikoden V (we're at V already!) and am looking forward to the Suikoden cosplay photoshoot at Otakon (we have 30 people!) and…in short…write more Nash/Sierra fanfics! The world needs them!

Peace out, and thank you for reading this fanfic!


End file.
